To Save a Sister
by RadicalT0aster
Summary: <html><head></head>When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal? ON TEMPORARY HIATUS.</html>
1. Fateful Encounter

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 1**

**"Fateful Encounter"**

It was supposed to be a simple CoveOps rooftop surveillance mission, and there was no doubt in my mind we'd be able to pull it off. While the rest of our class was on street level, blending in with the Saturday afternoon crowd that had gathered to watch the Roseville Day Parade that weaved its way through the small town, Mr. Solomon had decided that my roommates, Liz, Bex, and Macey, and I ought to experience CoveOps from a different perspective (thanks to our oh-so-spontaneous surveillance projects we'd thrown together over the years—_outside _of class, that is). That perspective being from the rooftops that bordered the town square, where a large crowd was gathering for the festivities of the day. It was our job to take note of our classmates' positions as well as the target's they were tailing, which is a lot harder than it sounds.

I might be nicknamed Cammie the Chameleon, but my eyes sure didn't go in different directions. It would probably help, though. We'd been split into groups of two and positioned ourselves on opposite sides of the square, so as to get all angles.

"Ms. McHenry," Mr. Solomon's voice blared through my comms unit. "The hotel next to the building your on has four rooms on the north side who's curtains are closed. Name them."

Standing next to me in the shadows of a billboard, Macey rambled them off, not missing a beat. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the crowds below, as did mine. Even without makeup and in a plain white t-shirt and jeans—the most casual and nondescript clothing available to pavement artists—she looked like a supermodel.

"Try not to get distracted by Josh this time, eh, Chameleon?" Bex said. I could practically feel her smile from across the square.

"Hardy-har-har, Duchess," I replied. Bex just laughed.

Above us, the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Confetti and streamers floated through the air below us. My classmates were in control of the situation and Mr. Solomon was directing them from the sidelines. For once, everything seemed alright; a Chameleon in her natural habitat, blending into the shadows and seeming to disappear from the world.

But we're not girls; we're spies. And I knew too well that peace can only last so long before reality brings you crashing back to earth.

Literally.

Next to me I saw Macey move in my peripheral vision and turned just in time for her to barrel into me, knocking us both to the ground just as there was a flash of silver that streaked centimeters from where my head had been just a second ago. The bullet buried itself in the billboard with a loud _thunk. _My eyes followed Macey's and I finally saw what she'd seen that had caused her to suddenly tackle me to the ground. The end of a sniper rifle pocked out of an open window at least two hundred meters across the square, concealed by curtains that waved in the breeze. The leather gloved hand was what really caught my eye though, on which a very familiar-looking ring gleamed in the sunlight.

Time seemed to slow and my heart beat heavy in my ears. I heard Macey curse in Farsi as her eyes met mine.

"The Circle," Macey and I mouthed at exactly the same time.

There was no time to think. We'd been trained not to think—just to act. Macey and I scrambled under the billboard and to a concealed ladder that dropped fifty feet to the ground (did I mention the building we were on was pretty tall?). Macey pushed me ahead of her, and I quickly climbed over the side. I wrapped my knees around the sides of the ladder and slid down, feeling the heat of friction through my jeans before my feet touched the ground of the alleyway.

I yelled into my comms unit. "Mr. Solomon! The Circle. They're—"

I didn't get to finish as I turned and saw seven black-clad Circle operatives closing in. Fast. And in case you didn't know, seven-on-two is hardly fair. If they were untrained, normal everyday people, it wouldn't be so much of a problem.

My mind was racing, running a mile a minute. How had they gotten here? How had my classmates or Mr. Solomon not noticed them? Or even Bex and Liz? I heard Mr. Solomon say something in my ear but I couldn't concentrate on what anyone was saying as I dodged a fist that sailed way too close to my ear for comfort, and launched myself at my attacker, spinning and planting a hard, roundhouse kick in his chest. He skidded on his back for a good five feet or so before more of them were on me. After that, it was like a movie, a bunch of superimposed images that hardly seemed real as my mind slowed down and my reflexes sped up. My back was to the side of the building. Crap. One of the worst possible positions to be in is where you have to fight your way _through_ your enemies if you wanted to run away. Which, right now, I kind of wanted to.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Macey holding her own against a man and a woman, flipping and dodging and trading parries and kicks. I landed another blow, then one of the masked men punched me so hard that my head snapped around and I felt a burst of blood in my mouth. I leaped toward him, only to be grabbed by behind. Two of them pinned my arms behind my back. Another leaned forward, blazing white teeth shone behind the mask, and my mind flashed back to Boston.

Get _her._

Get me.

He pulled back his hand and curled it into a fist. Then he brought it in hard, punching me in the stomach. An unbelievable pain exploded inside me, and I doubled over, dropping like a stone. One of my colored contacts fell onto the pavement.

Dimly, I heard the sound of a solid kick landing and a loud grunt.

_Get up!_ I told myself, trying to suck in air. _Get up!_

We were badly outnumbered. We were dog meat. I struggled to my hands and knees, trying not to retch. Two of the men lay groaning near me. Then slender arms wrapped themselves under my armpits and hauled me to my feet. I was about to lash out with my elbows when the arms released me and shoved me in the opposite direction, toward the alley's exit.

"Run!" Macey shouted at me. "It's you they want!"

I stole a glance back at her over my shoulder as I took off. Macey was still upright, but one eye was already swelling shut. Her blue eyes were blazing and fierce. Behind her, one of the men was struggling to his feet. Three lay unconscious.

One of the cardinal rules of a Gallagher Girl was to never leave your sister behind. Ever. So when one of you runs, the other is right on her heels. Or in this case, my heels.

I dashed from alley to alley, swerving around corners, changing direction, trying to be as unpredictable as possible. Anything to lose them. My breathing was coming in wheezing gasps as I sprinted as fast as my legs could take me, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. I left the shadows of the looming alley and ran straight through the crowded street before dashing into the alley on the opposite side. The side Bex and Liz were supposed to be on. My comms unit had been torn from my ear in the chaos. I rounded five more corners, not caring which direction I went in. My only thoughts were to get away. As I rounded another corner, coming to a dark and narrow alleyway that was only the width of two of me, I finally ran into my roommates.

And for the second time today, I meant it literally.

"Whoa!" Bex gave a start as I nearly knocked her over. I tried to slow down, but it was too late and I crashed into her. She regained her balance before gripping my shoulders and leading me further into the shadows of a dead end, pushing me into a corner. She stared me straight in the eyes. "What. Happened?" Over her shoulder I saw Liz talking fast into her comm, her eyes glued to the direction I had come from.

But I couldn't reply. My head swam and black spots danced on my vision. I didn't know if it was from lack of oxygen or from the blow I'd taken, but my knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet me.

"Cammie!"

And then everything went black.

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><p><strong>Whew, first chapter and things are already off to a rocky start, huh? I'll try and post a chapter every week or two, each around 1500 words or so (not too short, and not too long to where you feel like you're spending your life on the computer [or at least that's the length I prefer them]). Feel free to write a review or add to your alerts. I'll try and reply to each and every review!<strong>

**I still don't know exactly how many chapters this'll turn out to be, but I promise you I'm working my best in my [rare] spare time to make it the best I possibly can. I hope this story will be on-going for a long time! :-)**


	2. Missing In Action

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 2**

**"Missing In Action"**

"Cam?" Liz voice was very young and very scared, and seemed to be coming from a long way away.

I heard a horrible, low moan, then realized it had come from me.

When I came to and opened my eyes, Liz and Bex were leaning over me, concerned expressions on their blurry faces. I let my vision refocus for a second then looked at my surroundings. I was in the school's infirmary, and looking around, I saw several familiar faces.

"How are we feeling, Ms. Morgan?" Mr. Solomon asked. He was leaning against the post at the foot of the bed, his arms folded. My abdomen was sore and my mouth still had a lingering taste of iron, but otherwise I was still in one piece.

"I'm okay," I croaked. I looked at Bex. "What happened?" I asked and attempted to sit up.

I didn't get a quarter of the way there before Bex firmly pushed me back down onto the pillows. I felt okay enough to sit up, but I didn't dare resist against Bex Baxter's hold. "We were actually hoping you could tell us," she said. "We heard you yelling and were about to come over to your position when you came flying around the corner. Then you just sort of... collapsed." I didn't have to see her face to tell how worried she'd been.

"You gave us quite a scare, young lady," Mr. Solomon scolded.

"How long have I been out?" My internal clock hadn't reset itself yet, so it didn't hurt to ask.

Liz shrugged and sat down. "About three hours."

Memories came rushing back to me, and that's when I first realized one of my roommates was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Macey?" I glanced around the room again, halfway expecting to see her walking around the curtain at any moment, or (Gillian forbid) lying in the cot next to me.

Nobody answered. Nobody moved. A spec of dust could've landed on the ground and it'd sound like an explosion (especially if that dust was from Dr. Fib's laboratory). A cold hand clenched my chest. I sat up fully this time, ignoring the look Bex shot me. My mind flashed back to Boston again, and I prayed this was all a bad dream that I'd wake up from in my room and everything would be exactly as it should, with all _three_ of my friends dozing and mumbling in their sleep.

"Where is Macey?" I asked louder this time. My voice was strained and my throat was dry, but I didn't care.

I don't know how long the silence stretched on—minutes? Hours? Days? I pleaded with my eyes at Mr. Solomon, but he remained silent, his eyes boring into mine, a thousand silent questions being asked.

"We thought she was with you," Bex said slowly, carefully. I saw worry appear in her eyes.

"Sh-she was," I stammered, my heart beginning to pound. "She was right behind me...We..." My voice trailed off.

Here's where knowing how to lie to just about anybody (namely yourself) comes in handy. I knew, I _knew_ Macey had made it back with the rest of us. She had to have had. I instantly reminded myself of a Gallagher Girl's hard-wired desire to never leave one of her sisters behind, and I knew Macey would never, ever abandon her sisters, her family. Would never abandon me.

So why wasn't she here?

Without waiting for any other response I bolted up and was running up the stone staircase before I even knew what I was doing, like my body had just listened to my subconscious without waiting for a command. I heard Bex and Liz's voices calling after me, their footsteps right on my heels. I knew I couldn't outrun Bex even if I had on running shoes, and she quickly caught up. She didn't try to stop me though. We trusted each other's instincts, and right now my instincts were telling me something was seriously wrong here.

I took the stairs two at a time, fear and uncertainty urging my legs to go faster. I knew it to be only seconds but it seemed like I'd run a whole mile to the top of the stairs. I turned the doorknob and leaned my shoulder into the door, flying into our suite.

It looked exactly as it had been when we'd last left it. Macey's uniform lay folded on her bed, and my fear escalated.

I whirled around, obviously looking panic-stricken. Bex's jaw was clenched tight and it looked like she might break something. Liz tried to convince us the odds of success were higher than they really were. "She might be in one of the other rooms," she said, struggling to keep up as I raced back down the stairs and into the Hall of History. Our quick steps echoed down the empty corridor. The scraping of forks on plates told me the rest of the school was in the Grand Hall, and figured it was sometime in the evening.

I didn't even bother knocking; there was no time for that. I ran into my mother's office only to find Mr. Solomon already there. He didn't seem the least bit surprised that I'd come here. My mother's gaze swung over to me, her hands folded on her desk in front of her. I looked from one to the other.

Now I don't know if you know this by now or not, but I absolutely _hated_ when I was in the middle of the conspiracy and had no idea what was going on. Heck, my _life_ is a conspiracy in itself. But all I knew right now was that Macey was nowhere to be seen.

"Cameron," my mom said gently as she stood up and walked over to me. "How're you feeling?"

"Macey's not here," I said, not even bothering to answer her question. I'd just sprinted up and down a flight of stairs. I think I'm okay, thanks.

Mom said nothing. Her eyes seemed far away, like she was looking at me but she didn't see me standing right in front of her, out of breath and frantic. She took my shoulders and led me over to the leather couch. I sat down wordlessly.

Mr. Solomon sat on the coffee table in front of me. "Ms. Morgan," he said, "is it true you ran into the Circle during the CoveOps exercise in town today?" He didn't sound angry or interrogative, but... concerned. Puzzled. Like something was fogging his vision and he couldn't quite see clearly.

I nodded numbly.

"How many?"

"Seven," I replied automatically. The details played through my head like a movie projector.

"And Macey McHenry was with you at the time?"

"Of course she was," I snapped.

Mr. Solomon merely nodded slowly, digesting the information I was spitting out of my brain. He looked me straight in the eyes for the first time since I'd stepped foot into the office.

"Now, I need you to tell me _exactly _what went down." His tone assured me there was no room for argument, so I rambled off everything, not missing a single detail, from the time we'd been standing undisturbed on the rooftop to when I'd passed out. A deathly silence followed after I'd finished speaking. Mom was talking quietly into her desk phone, her brows wrinkled in the middle like they do when something serious is troubling her.

"What is it?" My voice sounded foreign even to me, which is saying something when you know fourteen languages and converse in them during breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"This is about Macey, isn't it?" Bex asked, her accent faintly registering.

Mr. Solomon stared out the window onto the shadowed grounds that seemed to darken even as I watched. Then his dark eyes met mine.

"She's gone," he said gravely. "They took her."

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><p><strong>...and the plot thickens! Let me know what you think of this chapter (want it longer, shorter, want Chuck Norris to make an appearance, etc.) and watch out for the next one.<strong>

**Feel free to review, criticize, and add to your watch list. Let me know how much you're enjoying this fan fiction. You readers out there really keep me motivated! :-)**


	3. It Was Supposed To Be Me

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 3**

**"It Was Supposed To Be Me"**

I thought I might faint again. I remembered what Mr. Solomon had said to us—to me—after my very first CoveOps assignment.

_"Now tell me what happens to spies who get made."_

The slide he'd shown me on the projector had been enough to make my knees goes weak then, and I still trembled at the memory of it as it filled my mind—the bloody, swollen face that stared back at me. The thin arms bound behind a chair and a cascade of bloody hair.

_"These people are very good at what they do."_

_"And she _is _screaming—she will be for about six hours, until she becomes so dehydrated she can't form sounds."_

_"They have _special things _in mind for her."_

I'd thought I was going to be sick and was unable to look him in the eye, and the same instance applied here.

_"This is what you're signing up for."_

_"Look at what is happening to your friends!"_

_"Your friends are gone."_

Macey was gone.

_"...once this starts—it doesn't stop. It never stops."_

Rage overwhelmed me—why couldn't they have taken me instead? Why take Macey?

Shakily, I got to my feet. My head was spinning, and I had to lean against Bex, hating my weakness. "We've got to get her," I said urgently, trying to stay upright. "We've got to get her before they—" Horror-filled images flashed through my mind—Macey being hurt, being beaten, being killed. She was on her way to where death came as a blessing. I gulped, shutting them down.

It wasn't going to happen. Not while I was breathing.

I made a start for the door but was stopped by Mr. Solomon.

"And where exactly do you intend to go?" he asked.

That brought me back to the situation at hand. The facts. I realized I had no clue where they could've taken Macey.

"Can't we track her?" Sheer determination backed up Bex's words and there was fire in her eyes. Bex was _the_ strongest, _the _most lethal and _the_ most protective girl I knew, like a lioness, and if one of her sisters was in danger or in harm's way she would pounce on the enemy before you could count to one.

Mom had hung up the phone by this time and she pondered Bex's proposal, then she regretfully shook her head.

"She wasn't equipped with any tracking sensors." She paused and looked at me—the girl littered with them. "Was she?"

My hopes were crushed and I felt guilty as I shook my head no. "None."

"We'll get every international base searching for any sign that the Circle has been active, watch radars for any aircrafts and helicopters, get every agent on standby." I don't think I'd ever seen my mom as determined as she did then. She embraced me in a hug—the kind only a mother can give. "We'll find her, honey," she whispered into my ear. "We'll bring her home. I promise."

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><p>I don't even remember walking back to my room. Our room. The room Macey shared with us. I felt dumbstruck and numb, and when we first walked into it, the first thing I saw was Macey's bed, on which her uniform remained undisturbed. I couldn't bear to look at it, so I carefully put it away in her closet and slammed the door.<p>

Bex and Liz sat down on either side of me. Bex scooted closer to me and laid my head on her shoulder. She stroked my hair.

"Take deep breaths," Liz advised me, looking concerned. I almost burst into tears. I had let our sister get kidnapped, failed to look after her, and my friends were worried about _me_.

"But they must've had a chopper," I mumbled, my voice dangerously close to breaking. "They're way gone. They could be anywhere. Like, China or something."

Bex stopped stroking my hair and looked down her shoulder at me. "Listen, Cammie. I know you know that you're they're real target," she said softly. She paused, waiting for me to say something in reply. I didn't, so she continued. "They know we'll come after Macey. They know _you'll _come after Macey. It's got to be a trap."

I picked my head up and turned to look at her. I'd been thinking the exact same thing. To the Circle of Cavan, Macey was just another Gallagher Girl, bait to lure me out. But she knew me, she was with me, and that meant she knew things about me. Information. That was their goal. And they would use any means necessary to beat it out of her.

But we were Gallagher Girls, and none of us would ever, under any circumstances, sell out our sisters to the enemy... no matter how much pain befalls us. Eventually, if we didn't end up coming to her aid, and frustrated at the lack of information, they wouldn't hesitate to...

_No_. I didn't want to think about that because we _will_ come to Macey's aid. As soon as possible. As soon as we acquired her location.

"She'll be okay," said Liz. "She's strong."

There are two kinds of strength: the physical kind, and the mental kind. The Gallagher Academy trained us to excel in both, and I knew more than ever Macey was relying on both right now, and we had to be strong for her, too. Thousands of miles away.

Bex resumed stroking my hair, crooning a wordless tune of comfort as she did so. Liz was typing furiously on her computer, undoubtedly hacking into every faction database with initials (and there's _a lot_) looking for any spec of information she could find.

For the second time that night Mr. Solomon's words echoed in my head.

_"Motivation. It's why people do the things they do."_

_"There are six reasons anyone does anything: Love. Faith. Greed. Boredom. Fear..._

_"Revenge."_

The Circle of Cavan wanted me. Yet I had no idea which of those six reasons they were motivated by, had no idea which reason they were acting on.

But one thing was certain.

My best friends and I, the very lethal Bex, the ever-knowledgeable Liz, and Cameron Morgan, The Chameleon—we were going to rescue Macey.

Our motivations: _Love_. For our sister and our friend.

And: _Faith_. In ourselves.

In each other.

In Macey.

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><p><strong>Keep those reviews coming and let me know what you think of this story so far! I promise to look into each and every one.<strong>

**Special thanks to **_**AussieGallagherGirl **_**for being my first reviewer, and **_**wolfergirl **_**for being the second. They've both given me reviews on each of the chapters so far. Thanks for helping me keep motivated! :D**

**At least I know there are two people out there in the world who actually care about this story...**


	4. Revelations

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. _That_ belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. _I _however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 4**

**"Revelations"**

The days had never, ever seemed longer than they did in the three following Macey's disappearance. Time itself seemed to drag on, one day felt the equivalent of two, and I could hardly keep my focus from drifting into less-than-desirable thoughts. My appetite had diminished as well, and I sat at the junior table in the Grand Hall, pushing peas around my plate with my fork, disconnectedly watching them roll around. The seat next to me remained empty.

"Come on, Cam. You've got to eat _something_," Bex lectured me.

The news of what had happened hadn't spread too far—thanks to the headmistress, a.k.a. Mom—but I knew it was only a matter of time. When Tina Walters had asked where she was, my automatic response was, "I can't tell you. Sorry." It's not like I actually _enjoyed_ lying to people, but sometimes you have to to protect your own feelings from flooding over.

I pretended I hadn't heard her and remained zoned out up until Bex leaned closer and whispered, "What would Macey say if she saw you like this?"

That caused me to look at her. The thought hadn't crossed my mind. But when I thought about it, I imagined Macey would say that I was being childish or something. But mostly I imagined her in the seat next to me, looking concerned.

I finally took a forkful of food and shoved it in my mouth. I had to admit, it was pretty darn good, especially when your chef once served at the white house.

"Happy?" I asked.

She smiled a very Bexlike smile. "Very."

We left the Grand Hall early, mainly because I wanted to avoid any questions from any of my classmates.

"Do you know if they've found out anything yet?" I asked Liz as we reached the bottom step of the staircase.

She opened her mouth to reply when a voice boomed behind us, "As a matter of fact, we did."

I turned around to find Professor Buckingham walking out of the shadows towards us. "I was just looking for you three," she said. For our oldest faculty member, she looked especially old right then as she stepped into the light. A shadow fell across her face.

"Is it about," I lowered my voice, "Macey?"

Professor Buckingham didn't answer. Instead she kept walking past us towards the Hall of History. "See for yourself," she said ominously.

We exchanged glances before jogging after her. Our footsteps echoed down the empty stone corridor.

When we walked into my mother's office, I expected it to be like three days ago right after I'd run out of the infirmary, with Mr. Solomon leaning on the desk and Mom sitting behind it.

I _did not_ however expect to see the entire Gallagher Academy faculty standing to the side of the room, their eyes glued to the screen of the television in front of them. They gave no indication they'd noticed our presence as we'd entered, but I knew they'd sensed us approaching. After all, they were some of the best spies in the world.

I stood frozen in the doorway, unsure what to do. Mom didn't tear her gaze away to look at me. Instead she gestured me forward blindly. She put her hands on my shoulders when I reached her, Bex and Liz right behind me.

"Cameron," she addressed me, looking at me for the first time. "I'll warn you now. This may be... _disturbing_ to you ladies."

That was the understatement of the year. The decade. The century.

I cried a choked sob as we moved around to see the screen, and the grainy black-and-white image it contained. I heard Bex and Liz gasp, and knew they'd recognized it, too.

The video showed a large, empty concrete room. A single light dangled from the ceiling.

And in the center of it all, was Macey McHenry.

She was bound to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor and slumped over as far as she could with her restraints, looking totally and utterly defeated. Her black hair fell down over her swollen and battered face, her white t-shirt stained with dark splotches. Something dripped in quick succession from her chin onto her jeans, and with horror I realized what it was:

Blood.

In front of her stood a tall man clad entirely in black, his muscles practically bulging through his tight shirt.

I could only watch as he raised his arm to full length over his head, his fingers forming into a fist. Then he brought it down hard, with tremendous force, against Macey's temple. Her head whipped around from the force of the blow and blood spurted across the room. She didn't flinch. Didn't cry out. Her eyes didn't even shift. Didn't blink. They simply stared ahead, as if frozen.

I felt complete and utter helplessness as he brought his arm up and hit her again. Still no reaction whatsoever. Again and again and again, over and over and over her punched her, back and forth, but she didn't move as her head whipped back and forth with such brute force it hurt just watching it. Finally the man ceased, breathing heavily from his efforts. He chuckled to himself, then pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his cargo pants. He lit one and took a long drag.

Then he bent down to her level and snorted. Smoke shot out of his nostrils like a dragon that'd just breathed fire. He exhaled heavy smoke into her face. Their faces were an inch apart.

"What say you now," he growled, "Gallagher Girl?"

Macey slowly raised her head—the first movement I'd seen her make—and stared blankly back at him. Her left eye was so swollen shut it only opened a tenth of the way it normally would have.

And then Macey did something I'd never, _ever_, forget—she spat in his face. Hard.

I felt a rush of contradicting emotions all at once.

Macey was still fighting.

Fighting for the sisterhood.

Fighting for me.

_Fighting for her life_.

Next to me, I felt Joe Solomon smile. He looked... proud.

Her captor recoiled at the mixture of blood and saliva. He staggered backwards and wiped a large gloved hand over his face. His face was contorted with rage, but then it slowly relaxed. And that's what scared me even more.

A sinister smile snaked its way onto his features. I trembled for my friend.

"Well then," he said, making his way to a rectangular metal table against the wall that I hadn't noticed until now. It was littered with instruments that made my blood run cold—pliers, scissors, knives, syringes, vials of steaming acids, a long metal rod, its end glowing red from the hot embers it was soaking in; a broken glass bottle, rope, chains, a metal gauntlet with spikes on the knuckles, and other prehistoric, medieval, civil-war life, unmentionable, indescribable torture-inducing objects. Some of them were speckled with blood and my knees went weak.

The Circle operative carefully selected a long knife from the large selection, its flat edge at least three inches at the widest point. It gleamed dully in the light. He held the hilt gingerly but firmly, crossing the room like a shadow. He was grinning like a madman.

"Break the weakest link, and the rest shall soon follow."

Macey didn't watch him—just stared at the floor, waiting for whatever would come next.

"If that's the way you want to play things, so be it." He flipped the blade around and held it in a reverse grip, stepping forward and stabbing it into her side up to the hilt. Blood poured from the wound. Even through the television I heard a sickening crack, and knew he'd directly hit a rib. Macey's back arched and her jaw clenched so tight I could see the veins in her neck, but she didn't cry, didn't scream. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd broken her. A small groan escaped her clenched teeth, but that was it.

_"And she _is _screaming—she will be for about six hours, until she becomes so dehydrated she can't form sounds."_

But that's when I realized my best friend was already broken.

She slumped over again, but her captor roughly grabbed her under the chin and forced her to look up at him. Blood tricked from the corners of her mouth. She was barely conscious.

"Then die," he said simply, as if he were discussing the weather, and then left the room. He hadn't pulled the knife from her side and its hilt protruded from her torso, blood staining her shirt like water.

The sound of the heavy metal door closing echoed through the empty concrete room, but I didn't get to see what happened to my best friend next, because the imaged dissolved into fuzz of static. **NO SIGNAL** appeared in red in the top right corner.

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><p><strong>Believe me when I tell you this chapter was just as painful for me to picture and put into words as it was for you to read. 0_0<strong>

**Reviews? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Fire away!**


	5. Newfound Determination

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. _That_ belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. _I _however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

__Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._ _

**Chapter 5**

**"Newfound Determination"**

Horrified, my vision went blurry and I tried to wipe away the tears that I hadn't known were sliding down my face. But I couldn't stop them. Bex's fists clenched and unclenched. Liz didn't hold back. Tears coursed down her face unheeded. She hunched forward on her knees, rocking back and forth.

My mom led me to the leather couch. I didn't have the strength to stand.

"That'll be all," she said to my teachers. "You're dismissed."

They filed out of the room silently and the door shut behind them.

And then I knew that it was safe, and I didn't hesitate to let the tears I'd been holding back break through the dam, cascading from my eyes. Mom waited until I had calmed down a bit, before saying, "I know what you're thinking, Cameron."

I looked up. She seemed so calm, so composed. And here I was with tear streaks on my face. I took a deep breath, trying to keep it together.

"Where?" I asked. "Where is she?"

Mom hesitated before answering. "We tracked the coordinates. They've taken her to Norway, two-hundred and seventeen miles northeast of Trondheim."

I stood up on rubbery legs. "I have to get to her. Now!" My voice reeked of desperation, which I was.

I expected her to tell me she'd take care of it, that I was forbidden to leave the school, that she didn't want to put me in any more danger than what I was already in. But she nodded sadly. "I know, sweetheart."

I'd already opened my mouth to protest when her words registered.

"You mean I can... go?"

She nodded and looked at Bex and Liz. "I know you three would go after Macey anyway, regardless of any orders given to you to not do exactly that."

Deep down I figured we'd end up doing something like that.

Mom stood and sat down in her desk chair and began riffling through papers. "Besides, I believe Ms. McHenry needs you three more than ever right now."

We exchanged glances. I didn't need my roommates to say anything.

We thought so, too.

"You'll commence the rescue operation tomorrow at oh-five-hundred hours," Mom told us professionally.

As we nearly sprinted out of her office to gear up as soon as possible, the images we'd just seen still cycling through my head, and most likely would be for a long time to come, I heard her add, "And remember..." I turned to look at her pale face. The face of the best spy I'd ever known. And my mother.

"Be careful."

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><p>I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to. Macey was suffering. I felt I should suffer along with her. When I did finally manage to drift into sleep, it wasn't sound or peaceful by a long shot. I had horrible, unmentionable nightmares.<p>

Sharp objects. Blood. Red. Crimson. Cries of pain. Pain itself. Death.

Screaming...

Screaming..

_Screaming!_

"CAMMIE!"

I bolted upright in bed, gasping, my hand over my heart. That's when I realized _I'd_ been the one screaming. Screaming in my sleep.

Screaming for Macey.

The sheets were wrapped tight around my legs, entangling me. Sweat dampened my hair and ran down my neck and back. I was breathing like I'd just run a marathon from coast to coast across the United States. My thrashing must've woken up Bex and Liz. They were wide awake, their faces wrinkled in concern.

Bex brushed the stray hairs from my face. "It's okay, Cam. It was just a bad dream."

But I frantically shook my head at her. Because it was real. It was happening right now.

To our friend.

"N-no," I breathed, trying to untangle myself. "We have to go. We have to—"

Liz put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. "Shhh..." she whispered softly. "Breathe, Cammie. Breathe..."

I was hyperventilating, my breathing quick and sharp but not putting enough oxygen into my brain. I took her advice and inhaled and exhaled slowly. My breathing slowed. My thoughts began to turn sluggish and I felt more tired than I did when pulling all-nighters for COW. Blood still pounded in my ears. Bex had gripped my hand and was caressing it with her thumb. I felt safe. Bex and Liz were still with me.

But Macey wasn't. And she didn't feel safe. Not one bit.

"I'm sorry," I barely managed, and then—get this—I burst into tears.

I didn't have the strength to run off and hide. I just sat there, my hands over my face.

Then strong arms were around me.

Bex.

I leaned against her and sobbed. I felt tentative hands patting my back. Stroking my hair. Someone said, "Shh, shh."

Liz.

Nothing in our world was okay. Except that we had one another.

I don't know how long this touching scene rolled on, but eventually my sobs gave way to shuddering breaths, and finally I was spent. Bex's nightshirt was soaked.

I sniffled and sat back, knowing I must look like a train wreck. I certainly felt like one, that's for sure. Bex let me go, not saying anything.

"Sorry, guys." My voice sounded rusty.

Liz said, "It's okay, Cam. We're all worried."

I _was_ worried. Worried sick. I was so worried I might _be_ sick. I was so... okay, so maybe I've made my point already.

"She'll be okay," Bex whispered, then smiled softly and cocked an eyebrow. "After all, she _is _a Gallagher Girl."

That one sentence did make me feel better coming from Bex. I knew once we got to her we'd keep her safe, but that wasn't my main concern.

My main concern was if she could hold on until we hopped into a chopper and flew across the Atlantic to storm the Circle base on the outskirts of Norway.

"Let's try and get some sleep," Bex said in the tone of the incredibly tired. "Long day tomorrow."

Liz stood up slowly, but tripped over one of my sheets that had fallen out of the side of my bed and onto the floor. "Oopsy daisy!" she cried, and crashed to the floor.

A sort of choking laugh left me as Bex rolled her eyes and buried herself further under the covers.

More than anything I was glad these two would be with me.

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><p><strong>I apologize for this being the shortest chapter so far, but I kind of had a writer's block moment, so I'll leave it at this.<strong>

_**Question for you peoples: Should I add more or less detail? Yes or no/I don't really care just update, damn it!**_

**I tend to second-guess my writing whenever I read a really awesome fan fiction written by somebody else, then look back at mine and say to myself, "Man, I'll never be that good of a writer," which in turn leads me to want to just give up. So to sum it up, I'm _really _self-conscious about what other people think.**

**Let me know if I should continue or not, which I probably will considering I have a spiral notebook with fifty pages of later chapter material.**

**So can Macey be saved in time? Stay tuned!**

**Please review and let me know how I'm doing [not that anybody really reads these Author's Notes down here *rolls eyes and shrugs to self*]. But I appreciate it if you do.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Mission Start

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. _That_ belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. _I _however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

__Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._ _

**Chapter 6**

**"Mission Start"**

We were up by 3 A.M., so as you could imagine, I didn't get much sleep at all.

After making sure we had all our gear (Liz's backpack bulging from all kinds of gadgets and expensive-looking tech), we headed down the grand staircase in our entirely black attire (though our jackets and shirts were reversible in case we ran into anybody non-Circle related. After all, three girls in black clothes hiking through the snowy outskirts of Norway, miles away from the nearest town are more than likely to arouse suspicion). Of course we'd throw on many more layers when we got closer to the Arctic Circle (Yeah, in case you didn't know, it's really freaking cold in Norway). The mansion was quiet as we made our way down. Classes wouldn't start for a few more hours.

"You ready for this?" Bex sounded very... Bexlike.

I put my hands against the thick front doors leading outside. Leading to our mission. To our friend. "If you wait till you think you're ready, you'll wait all your life," I quoted, and I realized it was true. I wasn't ready to infiltrate one of the bases of an international terrorist group that was hunting me. I wasn't exactly prepared to offer myself up on a silver platter, but my fear was overridden by my desire to rescue Macey. That was all that mattered right now.

I'll admit I was a little worried for Bex and Liz's sake, who I'm sure had taken up a silent vow to undoubtedly protect me—the Circle's _real_ target—from everything and everybody, just like Macey had done in the alley four days ago. I didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of me, but I put myself in their shoes, and realized I'd do the same thing if the situation were reversed.

After all, that's what best friends (and spies) do.

Bex nodded. "I couldn't have put it better," she said.

And on that note, I pushed the doors open.

Maybe the sky had sensed the danger of what we were about to do or what was happening to Macey, for it was dark and the clouds were heavy, threatening to start pouring down rain. We made our way across the perfectly-cut lawn in the direction of the tennis courts where a chopper was waiting, its blades beginning to whirl as we approached. My mother stood next to it, her hair flying in the wind. She hugged me when I reached her. I knew she couldn't leave the school without its headmistress, and I could feel tears sting my eyes.

"Come back," was all she said before she pulled away.

Mom hugged Bex and Liz, saying things like, "Trust your instincts," and "You have the communication access code to contact me, correct?" I knew we wouldn't be gone for long; Get in, get Macey, get out. That was the plan.

The tricky part was _how_.

The door to the chopper opened and we climbed in, sliding it closed behind us.

My mother waved as we lifted off from the ground, the school quickly disappearing as we took off northeast in the direction of Norway.

Our mission was underway.

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><p>The ground beneath us roared by—trees and hills, rivers and highways that gradually gave way to an ocean of dark water—but we didn't pay too much attention to where we were going as we planned out the best courses of action and made backup plans for the backup plans, going through every situation and planning accordingly. The pilot (who just so happened to be one of Gallagher Academy's Maintenance Department) informed up that we'd have to land a good distance from the base—about a mile—to avoid being detected by any sensory radars. Then we were on our own until we contacted my mom to get an extraction team in.<p>

We were already constructing Plan J when I felt the temperature begin to drop, so we all tossed on our first jacket (black, of course), and I was sure more were going to follow.

"Exactly what temperature is it in Trondheim?" Bex asked Liz over the whirling blades and gushing winds.

Liz pulled a handheld device from her pack and flipped it open. She pressed a few buttons before her eyes widened.

"Negative 5 degrees Fahrenheit."

See, I don't know if you knew this or not, but while it's summer in one place, a world away it's winter. And on top of that, this is Norway we're talking about.

"Is it night or morning there?" I asked, since—as we all should know by now—it gets colder at night when the sun is down.

"Well," Liz said, "technically it's both." I must've had a really crazy look on my face, because she hurried to explain.

"During winter there they only get three hours of sunlight during this time of year."

Oh just _heck_.

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><p>"Get ready, you three!" the pilot yelled.<p>

I shook myself awake and felt to chopper lowering itself to the ground. I had just stood up, heavy with sleep, when the surface beneath me lurched and I scrambled to regain my balance.

"Sorry!" he yelled from the cockpit. "The wind is too strong for a solid landing!" He turned around. "You're going to have to jump!"

Most _normal_ people who are ever asked if they've ever gone skydiving or bungee jumping laugh and respond, "Of course not! I'm not crazy." Well, we aren't normal girls, because we did exactly that. OUT OF A HELICOPTER.

As soon as the door slid open I almost went snow blind and deaf and the wind roared in my ears. Snow flew everywhere and the wind felt like a thousand needles piercing my skin. But I didn't have time to dwell on the details, because right then the pilot yelled, "Go, go, go!" and I jumped.

It's harder to judge distances from above, and I had seriously miscalculated how far down the drop was. I fell for what felt like way longer than it should have been, before I heard the snow crunch under my feet. The wind practically knocked me to the ground and I caught myself on my hands and knees, feeling the snow through my cargo pants and gloves. Next to me, Bex rolled quickly to her feet and Liz was spitting snow out of her mouth. The chopper was now only a black spot quickly fading into the distance and disappearing in the blanket of white that seemed to cover the entire world around us.

I stood up and glanced at Bex and Liz. They both flashed me a thumbs up. I broke my gaze with them and looked out around the vast desert of snow and ice. It was if all the color had faded from the world and all that was left was white. Behind us, a small forest was the only other thing in sight, the skinny trees without a trace of green. I squinted through the falling snow and bone-chilling wind that made my eyes water, and saw a dim outline of grey.

And I knew that was where we were headed.

I steeled myself then dug my feet through the thick, undisturbed snow, leaving tracks that would quickly be covered by the falling white around us, Bex and Liz right next to me.

_We're coming, Macey._

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><p><strong>Things are finally starting to kick off! I know it's taken, what, five chapters? to get to the main event, so you guys that've stuck around, thanks! I now return you to your previously scheduled program... ;-)<strong>


	7. Infiltration

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 7**

**"Infiltration"**

THE PROS AND CONS OF BEING IN NORWAY

A List by Cameron Morgan

You finally have an excuse to wear that new jacket you just bought: PRO

You'll need three of them: CON

It's nice to experience life in a different country and see the sights: PRO

All there is to see is snow—lots of it: CON

You have a great opportunity to brush up on your Norwegian (and get extra credit for COW): PRO

You're two-hundred and seventeen miles from civilization (thus unlikely to find any people): CON

I've seen and done some pretty crazy things. Most of which involve a lot of physical strength. Like sneaking out of the Gallagher Academy and running two miles in high heels to go see (whose name I shall not mention) a boy. Or jumping through laundry chutes which result in concussions. Needless to say, I turned out pretty well considering.

Walking a mile I could do in my sleep. On stilts. With weights tied to my shoes.

But walking a mile through thirty mile per hour wind and knee-deep snow? Not so much.

I couldn't feel my face or feet anymore, so moving either one felt like a foreign concept. We were doubled over as if to make ourselves more aerodynamic, which sadly, didn't work. But if I hadn't had my head down, Bex wouldn't have had to grab my arm to keep me from plowing straight into the electrical fence surrounding the Circle base.

That is, if you could call it a base. Small abandoned enclosure is more close a description. Six short, windowless square concrete buildings stood two-by-two next to each other in a row, which meant three rows. A twelve-foot tall fence with barbed wire surrounded the enclosure, and as far as I could tell through the chain-links in said fence, there weren't any inhabitants aside from the armor-clad (and most liking heat insulated) guards patrolling, submachine guns slung over their shoulders.

We lay belly down and completely blended in the deep snow.

"So we've made it here," Bex whispered, steam puffing out of her mouth with each breath. "Now the question is..."

"Which building Macey's in," I finished for her.

Liz reached behind her and took a small rectangular gadget from the side pocket of her backpack. I recognized it immediately as a heat sensor. She flipped it open with the flick of her wrist and cautiously raised it over the mound of snow hiding us from view, careful to keep her head lowered. Several red and orange blobs stood out visibly against a grey and white background on the screen. I could make out the outline of guards and the movement of people inside the buildings. What they were doing, I had no idea. But one figure stood out among the rest.

Because it was the only one not moving.

"Middle row, building on the right side," said Liz through chattering teeth.

I muttered a Norwegian (it seemed fitting) curse word under my breath.

Because that building might as well be in the very center of the complex.

One of the main points of infiltration is for it to be like you were never there. Don't trigger any alarms, don't alert any guards—leave no trace of you having been there. Like you hadn't been there at all. But with this situation, it was going to be extremely difficult to pull off without doing either.

I scanned the building for some other point of entry. My eyes snapped to the metal ventilation snaking itself between buildings and decided _that_ was more than fitting for our purposes.

Lying on our stomachs, we dragged ourselves through the snow slowly, edging our way towards the corner of fencing by the building closest to our right side. Luckily, there were no guards that felt the need to guard the tiny gap between fence and building. Liz cut the electricity coursing through the fence.

Bex pulled out—wait for it... _another jacket _(one currently not in use), clenched it between her teeth and began to scale up the fence like a spider. When she got close to the barbed wire she draped the jacket over it and then swung herself over it—effectively avoiding getting sliced up—and caught herself on the opposite side and began to make her decent. Liz and I quickly followed suit. I found it harder to grip the links in the fence with numb fingers and thick gloves, but I managed enough (and then thought I'd suggest this as an exercise to our P&E teacher for extra credit). I remembered to grab the jacket after I'd swung over.

By the time my feet were firmly back on the ground Bex was already unscrewing the ventilation panel on the side of the building. It popped off quietly and she set it on the ground.

As we crawled through the hot, cobweb infested space I thanked my lucky stars I wasn't claustrophobic. The warm air made me feel like I was melting and I began to sweat. Under my hands the metal of the shaft gave in slightly and estimated we were hovering over the empty air between the two buildings.

_We were close._

* * *

><p>A small light filtered its way through air vent that would hopefully take us to where Macey was being held. A thousand images played in my mind's eye and I prayed none of them would be true. Liz disabled the laser circuits and the red beams disappeared from the grate. Then there was nothing (I hoped) standing between us and our friend. Liz double checked with the heat sensor and all that was inside the room was an unmoving person. Thankfully no one else.<p>

As we slid the grate aside and dropped silently through it, I was almost blinded (even though the only light was coming from a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling) and lifted my night-vision goggles to my forehead. My eyes readjusted, and I gasped at the sight of thin arms bound behind a metal chair and a cascade of bloody black hair.

"Macey!" I cried as Bex and I bent down to her level. She didn't give us any indication that she'd heard us—didn't stir or raise her head. My eyes were glued to hers, expecting them to flutter open, but they remained shut through the blood and grime that covered her face. Only by concentrating on her chest did I see the faint rising and falling movement that comes with breathing.

"We should get out of here." Liz's voice shook and I knew she wanted nothing more than to leave the sight of this horrible place behind.

Not to mention it was hot, really hot. When I'd observed that the building was insulated, I had a feeling this particular room was more so than the others on purpose. It was uncomfortable, like a car heater turned all the way up so that it felt stuffy to breathe. And the dying girl in front of us had been in this same heat for _five days_. No doubt going from scorching warm to frigid cold would be drastic.

The hilt of the knife still remained in her side. Blood had trickled down the chair legs onto the concrete floor. If we didn't extract it, moving her would only hurt her more.

I cupped Macey's face in my hand. "Macey," I said—hoping she heard me—"We're going to have to remove the knife. And it's probably going to hurt. A lot." No response. But I figured she was better off unconscious for what I was about to do.

Liz grabbed Macey's shoulders and sat her up straighter. Cautiously, I grasped the hilt and started a slow pull. Her hands clutched tighter around the ropes tying her hands together, but she remained unconscious. As more of the knife blade became exposed as I pulled, fresh blood started to ooze from the wound, but I tried not to look at it. After a few minutes, I gave one final pull and knife slipped free. It had to be at least seven and a half inches long, not including the hilt. The entire blade was stained red and dripping onto my hands.

And it was our friend's blood.

Macey's blood.

Bex gave a slight nod at me and I went behind the chair and cut Macey's bonds. Without the ropes to hold her up, she fell forward and Bex caught her. Bex held the limp girl in her arms, blood dripping across her own skin in thin, jagged lines.

"We probably don't have much time," Liz snapped. Her face was pale in the uneven light.

Bex threw Macey over her shoulders onto her back and we stood up.

"Alright," I said. "Let's go."

Bex and Liz sped off towards the door, and I was only a step behind them when I took one last glance at the place where one of our sisters had been tortured—the chair, the rope, the metal table with instruments and tools, the splotches of red that stained the concrete floor—and tried to convince myself that we hadn't arrived too late.

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><p><strong>If you thought chapter 4 (Revelations) was hard for me to write, this one was even harder to picture. )_)<strong>

**Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter (currently in the works).**


	8. Exfiltration

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 8**

**"Exfiltration"**

Here's the thing about infiltration missions you probably didn't know—getting _in_ is usually the easy part. Getting _out_, however, is usually the hard part—the Belly of the Beast, if you will.

And our situation was made even more hazardous given that one of our own was both injured and unconscious, not to mention bleeding. We were on an imaginary timer. It was only a matter of time before the Circle realized their prisoner had vanished and before said ex-prisoner, a.k.a. Macey, bled out.

Bex was holding Macey's hands around her neck with one hand and had her other arm under her knees as we crouched in the shadows of the long hallway. I made an L with my index finger and thumb and pointed it down the path in front of us. "Now," I mouthed and we dodged to the next cover of shadows as the security camera swung away from us. Besides the darkness, there was absolutely no cover down the wide hallway laden with security cameras.

I was about to give the "Move" signal again when I heard the echo of approaching footsteps and instantly froze on the spot. Voices carried down the hall.

"Have you gotten anything out of the girl yet?" a deep voice asked.

"Nothing, sir," a second, higher voiced man replied. But then he added an ominous, "_Yet._"

The first voice cursed. "Damn Gallagher Girl," he snapped angrily. "A stubborn bunch, they are."

"That they are, sir," the second voice mused. "But not for much longer, you know." It wasn't a question.

The voices grew louder. The Circle operatives' white lab coats stood out in the dark. The man who had first spoken was a good head taller than his partner.

He laughed. "Yes, yes. I suppose it is only a matter of time _now_."

My heart hammered so hard I feared they might hear it as they passed mere yards from us without even a second glance or curious look. I slowly counted to sixty after their footsteps had faded before letting out the breath I'd been holding. One look at each other and we all knew who they'd been conversing about. I didn't want to know what they would've had in store for Macey—didn't want to think about it.

Instead, I focused on the security cameras, watching them carefully and waiting for their blind spot to become exposed.

We took cover and zigzagged down the hallway several more times before I saw the faint reflection of light off a stainless steel ladder on the right side. Liz's scan told us it led to the roof—our best bet at finding a way out of the complex. As we reached it I looked at Bex. She jabbed a finger at me and then held it up like the number one, which I translated as, _"You first."_

I nodded wordlessly and started up the ladder. A large metal slab stood between me and the outside. I prayed it wouldn't squeak with rust as I pushed against it with my hand and it swung out, making no noise as the lid was cushioned by the thick layer of snow that had settled on the flat rooftop. The wind nearly knocked me off my feet and it seemed excessively cold compared to the insulated concrete building.

I turned and crouched down to help Bex and Liz up. I had tried to pull Macey through first so that Bex would have an easier time climbing the ladder, but she'd shook her head sadly.

"She's light," was all she'd said.

I closed the hatch and did a three-sixty. The fence loomed next to us, standing three feet from the roof's edge. An abandoned guard tower sat at the top. It appeared to be unoccupied at the moment.

I took a small cable gun from my backpack and took aim for the side of the guard tower, slightly below the open window. I pulled the release and a black cord shot out. I heard the sharp crack of barbed metal digging and gripping into the stone. Bracing myself, I hit the small button at the top and gripped it tight in both hands as the cord shot back into the recess and I was hurled off my feet. I brought up my booted feet just in time to avoid colliding my face with the stone.

I hovered there for a moment, suspended ten feet from the ground on the side of a wall. Then I pushed off and climbed in through the window. I reached down and pulled the barbed tail free. I had only just moved my hand before another one slammed into the exact same spot my hand had just been.

I couldn't help myself; "Watch it, Liz!"

"Sorry," she quipped through my comms.

Note to self: Never trust Liz with objects that require aiming, shooting, or reloading.

Before long all _four_ of us were crouching in the guard tower. Macey was still unconscious.

Down below no one seemed to have noticed our little display and Bex grinned mischievously. "We're _good_."

Liz grinned back. "Or they're just overconfident."

A small rusted ladder descended from the tower and I figured the Circle hadn't used this part of the fortress recently. They've probably not been suspicious of any people considering they were so far from civilization. And with the size of the enclosure, it was as far off the grid as it could possibly be. Not to mention the freezing-your-butt-off conditions.

This time I motioned for Bex to go first and she did so without complaint. The rusted ladder creaked and groaned under her weight so I put my hands over the bolts holding it down, worried it could fall and Bex and Macey would go hurtling ten feet into hard snow. I did the same for Liz before climbing down myself, feeling it sway and bend in the wind. One of the rungs gave under my foot and hurtled down below. I recovered my balance hastily. You can imagine my relief when my feet finally made contact with the solid ground.

Now stealth is important in exfiltration missions. Heck, it's essential. But with the ground as flat as it was and the barren land that stretched for miles, we didn't exactly have cover.

So we couldn't exactly pull off stealth.

So did the next best thing:

We ran.

* * *

><p>Our heavy breaths were clearly visible in the bone-chilling air around us. I felt numb and sluggish. My face felt like it was being sanded with ice crystals and my cheeks were burning. Snow pelted us in the face and we were bent over double, leaning into the wind. I dug my feet into the deep snow like I was climbing uphill, but wasn't making much progress at all.<p>

Teeth clenched, windburn tears streaming out of my eyes, I looked at Liz and Bex, who were having the same struggle as me. Dark clouds hung in the distance, approaching more and more quickly.

"Th-th-there's a s-storm coming." Liz's teeth were chattering uncontrollably.

We were back to where we had started our mission, but this time there was no helicopter in sight. Nah, that would've been _too _convenient. And the only shelter in sight was the skinny forest, now only a hundred yards from where we stood, so I started for that.

Macey's arm dangled limply from Bex's shoulder and fear began to bubble in my stomach. All Macey had on was tattered, bloody clothing and she was running a high risk of developing hypothermia.

I knew we had to find shelter. Fast.

We stepped into the shelter of the trees and the wind seemed to be blocked slightly by the dead foliage around us. My ears were ringing.

We walked for several hundred more feet before I felt Bex tap my arm and I turned around. She looked like a human Popsicle.

She silently pointed to a giant mound of snow not ten meters away from us. I made out the edge of a wall, then the slope of a roof, then the hard angle of a corner, more regular and even than any shape that nature might have concealed under the snow, and I finally realized what I was looking at.

It was a cabin.

It took a few minutes walking around and banging the snow down from the outside walls before we finally found the side with the door, conveniently located on the leeward side. This would be intentional, I knew. Only a moron would place a door on the side where the prevailing north winds would pile the snow deeply.

I didn't wait to see if the coast was clear or if it were safe or not. I stepped inside and for the second time that day (night?) my skin felt like it was melting off of my body as it was exposed to warmth, no matter how small a temperature difference it was.

It was a relatively small cabin, thirteen-by-thirteen at the most with just one main room. A small stone fireplace stood at the back of the room, a large stack of firewood beside it. Along the right side small cupboards lined the walls (upon later inspection revealed they contained canned food that may or may not have expired and cooking utensils). A fine layer of dust coated the room and I figured it hadn't been used for quite some time.

Until now, that is. Because for our purposes and the current situation, this was as good a safe house as any.

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><p><strong>Yay! They've finally rescued Macey from the Circle! But she seems to be in pretty bad shape. What will her condition be?<strong>

_**Chapter 9: Coming to a computer screen near you.**_

**Sorry for the lack of dialogue this chapter. I think I might've over-described some things, but what's done is done. I just hope you picture it in your head the same way I did when I wrote this during lunch at school. If it's confusing as all get-up and you honestly have no idea what's going on you think you'll explode, then I'll go back and edit some things. But I believe I did a fairly decent job with this chapter.**

**If I'm not happy with it, then I won't post it and I'll work on it until it sounds right. So, since I obviously posted this, it means I'm happy with it. You have my word on that.**


	9. Conditions and Mistaken Identities

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 9**

**"Conditions and Mistaken Identities"**

We laid Macey on the floor in the center of the room and bent over her, fully taking in her current state.

The grainy black-and-white video feed we'd seen in my mother's office had been enough to make my appetite disappear for days, but looking at the real-life situation, I don't think I'll ever eat again.

Macey's entire face was covered in black, green, and purple bruises and cuts. Her eyes were rimmed with black and blood ran in streams from her forehead down to her neck, where numerous small cuts, no more than an inch or so long, were inflamed. I realized with horror that a generous amount of salt had been poured into the small incisions and then squeezed shut, ensuring all the nerves were exposed to it. I could only imagine the stinging pain one endured with such cruel methods.

Long, jagged gashes that looked like they'd been inflicted with a blade of some kind ran across her right eyelid and cheek. Her wrists were cut and bleeding from the ropes used to restrain her and her hairline was sticky with blood. A couple of fingers on her left hand were at crooked angles and her arms were in the same state as her face and neck, along with countless small, dot-sized impressions where needles had been injected. Small, circular burns created an abstract design. The size and shape were fitting for that of a cigarette butt.

Upon closer inspection, her left shoulder was dislocated as well and her right thigh was burned badly, most likely to the second degree. The flesh would be scarred after it recuperated itself, I knew.

The most serious-looking injury lay on her side, where dark crimson stained her shirt and fanned out from a center point from where the knife had been. Judging from the length of the knife and the angle of the stab, the wound would be deep.

As I gazed at one of my best and closest friends, usually so confident and strong, in such a weakened and broken state made me want to cry, it made me want to scream, and it almost made me want to charge back into the enemy base and make the people who'd done this to Macey suffer a thousand times more.

But more than anything I wanted to help my friend, and I knew doing any of those would do nothing.

I crouched down at her head and gently put my hands on either side of her face. I gazed down into her face intently as I said, "Macey, if you can hear me, please," I pleaded, "Please wake up."

The room was silent expect for the howling wind outside as we all waited for some sort of response from the girl taking short, shallow breaths.

It seemed like we sat there for an eternity. And then suddenly, Macey's hand twitched slightly and there was some movement behind her closed eyelids. A wave of hope washed through me. It was a small flicker of light in the dim and dusty cabin. I tried again.

"Mace—?" Suddenly a fist shot up and knocked me hard under the jaw and onto my back. The force was enough to temporarily wind me and set my ears ringing slightly, but as I pushed myself up I saw Macey go from lying flat on the floor to bolting in the direction of the door in one swift, lightning fast motion. She didn't get far before Bex wrapped her arms around her waist and held her back. Macey tried desperately to pull away, but Bex had her arms effectively pinned to her sides in an effort to keep her from hurting herself any further.

As I got up and moved closer, I realized Macey's eyes were still closed as she struggled unconsciously against Bex's hold.

A true Gallagher Girl, fighting to the end.

Too bad she didn't realize we weren't the enemy.

"Will you calm down?" Bex yelled, her accent as strong as ever. "It's us!"

Her voice seemed to register somewhere in Macey's subconscious because her thrashing stopped as quickly as it had started. She stood frozen like that, eyes still closed and Bex's arms still around her before she let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan before her body went completely slack and fell forward unconscious once more, not that I was even sure whether or not she had even regained consciousness at all. Bex's hold was the only thing keeping her upright.

The girl in me said that Macey had simply mistaken us for her captors, but the spy in me told me Macey was acting off of pure instinct driven by desperation. I thought maybe it was both.

Bex's face was confused as her gaze met mine. Liz just stood a good couple feet away, watching the scene unfold.

"What was _that_?" Liz finally asked as we lowered Macey down once more.

Bex shook her head. "She seemed to be acting unconsciously."

My concern was growing for both Macey's physical and mental health, praying this whole thing would eventually blow over and she would be the same Macey we'd all come to know.

My guess would be that Macey had noticed her hands were free and tried to make one last escape attempt.

At least, that's what I would've done.

But there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Get the medical kit," I told Bex and she pulled it from our packs.

I wet a piece of gauze and gently cleaned away the dried-on blood and dirt from the cuts and scrapes, finally able to see the extent of them all. There wasn't much we could do about the burn on her leg, but applied biosynthetic dressings to help speed along the healing process and prevent infection. After cleaning and disinfecting her face, arms and neck (which caused Macey to hiss in pain and try to lash out again, though Bex held her arms down), I hesitantly moved towards the most serious wound on her side when Bex said, "Let me do it," and took the cloth from me.

I knew Bex was a girl of action, and just sitting there was causing her to fidget. At least now she felt like she could be of use. In the corner of the room, Liz was trying to make contact with Mr. Solomon or my mom to call in an extraction team.

Bex tried to lift Macey's shirt up, but the blood from the wound had dried up and stuck the fabric in place. The last thing we wanted to do was simply rip it off. We didn't know how much extra damage that might do.

Bex held out her hand. "Give me a canteen," she said, and I hurried to hand it to her.

I watched as she began to pour water carefully over the wound, letting it soak through and loosen whatever it was that was causing it to stick.

After a minute or so, she tugged at it and it gave a little. Macey stirred, moaning quietly.

"Easy," I said gently. I wasn't sure whether I was addressing Macey or Bex. I decided it was probably both.

It took several minutes soaking and gently easing the cloth away, but eventually it fell clear and we could see what we were faced with.

"Oh my god," said Bex quietly. The horror in her voice was obvious. Liz made an inarticulate sound in her throat, and for a moment, turned her eyes away from the terrible sight of Macey's stomach.

The wound itself, which I might have expected to possibly have dried and scabbed over by now, was fresh and weeping. The flesh around it was swollen to almost twice its normal size. Her entire torso was discolored and covered in deep blue and black bruises. A sickly yellow around the wound gradually gave way to a dark blue tone, shot with bands of livid red. Her ribs were clearly visible from insufficient nutrients. I felt along Macey's ribs gently, feeling to see if any of them were broken (which at least one of them was). The skin was hot to the touch.

"How did this happen?" Bex asked in a shocked, low voice. All of us had seen our share of skirmishes and injuries. None of us had ever seen anything like this. None of us had seen such a level of infection.

And on one of our sisters.

Liz's face was grim as she studied it. Macey stirred fretfully, groaning and instinctively trying to reach with her good hand for the dreadful injury. Bex stopped her gently, forcing her hand back down by her side.

"There has to be something we can do." I pleaded with my eyes at Liz, the smartest Gallagher Girl there ever was.

A sense of hopelessness and uncertainty began to well up in my chest. I had no idea what to do here, no idea how to treat this horrible injury. Then I felt the helplessness being submerged by a sense of panic. Macey could die here, miles from help. And all because I, Cameron Morgan, didn't have the slightest inkling of what to do. I reached out uncertainly and realized my hand was shaking. Shaking in fear and panic and from a sense of utter helplessness. No amount of classes could've prepared me for this.

I had to do something. Try something. But what? Again I faced the inevitable answer. I didn't know what to do. Macey could be dying and I didn't know how to help her.

I paused uncertainly and drew back my hand. What was the point of touching her? Of poking and prying at her? She needed care and expert treatment.

"Maybe we should start by cleaning it?" Liz suggested. It seemed logical that clean water might soothe the swollen, feverish, discolored flesh.

With effort I gained control of my emotions. When all else fails, fall back on basic principles. Basic treatment for any injury was to clean, disinfect, and dress it. That much I could do for Macey. I knew she would've done the same for me.

Now that I had a clear course of action, I felt the clutching, debilitating panic receding. I looked at my hand.

The shaking had stopped.

"Thanks Liz. Good thinking." I glanced up and gave her a sad smile. "Would you find getting a fire going? I'll need some boiling water."

Liz nodded and rose to her feet. "I might as well," she said. "Until the snowstorm stops, they can't get a chopper in for extraction. Too hazardous conditions. Guess we'll be staying here for awhile."

"I guess so," Bex said. Then she looked at me and gave me a small smile. "Don't fret," she told me with a flare of her British accent, which we all know makes _everything_ sound better, like the sports casters for soccer. "She'll be alright."

I smiled as I figured Bex was right. After all, Macey was safe now and we were all together. There wasn't anything a Gallagher Girl couldn't overcome when we have each other.

Once the fire was lit and water boiled, we set about the task of cleaning Macey's wounds. We soaked pads of linen in the boiling water, then, after letting them cool a little, used them to wipe away any dirt or crusted matter around the edge of the wound. As we worked, swabbing as gently as humanly possible, we were rewarded by the sight of clean blood again seeping from the lacerated flesh. I thought that was a good thing. Liz remembered reading somewhere that fresh blood tended to clean out a wound.

Bex dabbed gently with a clean linen until the faint blood flow stopped. Then she disinfected the wound and bandaged it. We had to lift Macey into a sitting position to do so, Liz and Bex supporting her front behind and me from the front. Bex also took this opportunity to pop Macey's dislocated shoulder and broken fingers back into place before starting the bandages. There was a loud crack as they were snapped into place, causing her entire body to give a violent jerk. She remained unconscious, however.

Sometime in the middle of doing this she groaned softly and opened her eyelids a fraction.

Fearing another relapse, I spoke softly, my voice a whisper. I thought I might break her if I talked any louder. "Macey?"

She raised her head slightly and her blue eyes—usually bright and curious, now dull and empty—found mine.

"C-Cam...?" she croaked, as if she didn't believe the words herself, like they were foreign to her.

Bex stopped wrapping bandages around Macey's midriff at the sound of her voice, although faint. "You're awake!" she gasped, hugging the hurt girl's shoulders from behind, careful not to hurt her more.

"I told you the probability of her regaining consciousness in the first quarter day was—" Liz rambled on excitedly.

"No," Macey's said firmly, and we all stopped and stared at her. I saw Bex tense slightly, preparing for another incident like the one before. "N-no, you...aren't real...I was..." She closed her eyes almost fearfully. "I must be... hallucinating...again."

The three of us exchanged worried glances, but what worried me the most was the "again" of that sentence.

I gingerly put my hands on her shoulders. "Macey, look at me."

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

"You're not hallucinating," I told her sternly. "And we're not going anywhere, okay?"

"Yeah. You're safe now," Bex finished for me.

Macey's good eye (the one without the painful slash over it) opened almost three-quarters of the way as our words sunk in. Her eyes, before foggy and unfocused, slowly seemed to pull themselves out of the fog a little bit. In them I saw disbelief, confusion, uncertainty, and then finally, she smiled slightly.

And I knew then that Macey was still Macey.

Her smiled disappeared and she squinted at me. "But...w-when...? How did...you...?"

"We'll fill you in on everything," Bex promised as she gave one final tug at the bandages, tying them off tight.

She shuffled around to Macey's side, seeing her face for the first time since she'd woken up, saw that her eyelids were already shut again, and then grinned. "But we can handle that later."

As if on cue, Macey let out a sigh of relief and I knew she would be able to sleep for the first time in a long time.

And most likely, she would be sleeping or unconscious a lot in the next few hours. I remember Dr. Fibs telling us about how sleeping can help heal injuries and reproduce white blood cells quicker.

So all in all, I think she deserved it.

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><p><strong>This chapter is the longest one so far! Like 2,400 words. Sorry if you think it's <em>too <em>long, I never intended for it to be. In my defense, it looked so much shorter on notebook paper! =O**

**Sorry if the visuals were a little out-there for most people's comfort zones, but I really wanted Macey's condition to be realistic in a sense. Like a battle for survival or something.**

**So will Macey recover? Will Mr. Solomon and Ms. Morgan get there with the chopper in time? Why the heck did I decide to throw a snowstorm in? JUST FOR THE HECK OF IT, OF COURSE! :D**

**Nah, I'm kidding. It just made more sense that way. To me at least. *shrugs to self* You'll find out why in the next chapter.**

**As soon as I type it up... *cracks fingers***

**It's going to be a long night...not to mention finals coming up...and my lack of sleep...and my other personal issues...and...**

**Never mind. I know you secretly don't care about my personal problems. You just like fan fictions.**

**AM I RIGHT OR AM I RIGHT? ^_^**

_**P.S. I have personally been to Norway during the wintertime, so how I've described it up to this point is pretty accurate.**_


	10. Poison

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 10**

**"Poison"**

Macey's breathing had become slightly more regular. I sat with my back against the wall and watched her like a hawk.

Bex tossed another log into the fire and came over to join me. Liz was curled up, asleep.

Bex sank down next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'll watch her for awhile. You need to rest."

"I'm fine."

But Bex—like a good friend is supposed to do—wouldn't take no for an answer. She stared me down until I gave in and reluctantly agreed. The warmth coming from the fireplace helped keep out the frigid air gusting through the cracks in the wall boards and the sounds of my roommates around me made me feel almost safe, and before I realized it, I was dozing comfortably.

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><p>"Macey! Macey! Wake up!"<p>

Liz's shout roused me from sleep. For a second, I was confused, wondering what was happening and where I was. Then I remembered the events of the previous day and came quickly to my feet.

That was the first mistake of the day. Sleeping against a wall is not the most comfortable position for your joints.

Liz and Bex were crouched over Macey, who lay on her back as we had placed her. As I reached her side Liz looked up at me, fear in her eyes, then turned back to shout again.

"Macey! Wake up!"

Macey tossed restlessly on the floor. Her eyes remained shut, but she was muttering to herself and as we watched, she cried out, as if in pain.

Liz spread her hands in a helpless gesture. "She seemed fine," she said, her voice breaking with emotion. "I was talking to her a few hours ago and she seemed fine. Then she went back to sleep. Just a few minutes ago, she started tossing and fretting like this and I tried to wake her, but...she won't wake up."

I leaned forward and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Macey?" I asked tentatively. I shook her gently, trying to rouse her. Macey reacted to my touch, but not the way I hoped she would. She jerked and shouted something inarticulate and tried to throw my hand away from her shoulder, which Bex prevented. She remained unconscious, however.

I tried again, shaking her a little harder this time. "Macey! Wake up! Please!" Again, Macey reacted against the touch of my hand.

"Do you think you should be shaking her like that?" Bex asked anxiously.

"I don't know!" My angry reply was evidence of the helplessness I was feeling. "Can you think of anything better to do?"

Bex said nothing. But it was obvious shaking Macey wasn't achieving anything—it was only distressing her more. I let go of her shoulder. Instead, I laid my hand gently on her forehead. The skin was hot beneath my hand and felt strangely dry.

"She's feverish," I said. Was it possible she'd caught hypothermia?

"Cammie," Liz said. "What do we do? What's happening to her?"

I shook my head. Bex leaned forward and gently raised one of Macey's eyelids with her thumb. A pale blue eye stared back at us. There was no reaction from the unconscious Gallagher Girl. But as I studied the eye, I noticed that the pupil remained dilated, even though the room was relatively bright despite the lack of windows. It was an automatic response for the pupil to close down when exposed to sudden light. Apparently, Macey's system wasn't reacting normally to the stimuli.

"What is it?" Liz asked. She was probably hoping we'd done something, anything, found any indication that we had some idea what the problem might be. For Liz, this was one problem where we couldn't rely on a textbook.

"I don't know," Bex and I muttered at the same time.

Bex allowed the eye to close again. I put one finger on Macey's throat, feeling for a pulse in the large artery there. It was fluttery and uneven, but at least it was there. I pondered the situation. All Gallagher Girls were trained how to administer basic medical treatment in the event of a colleague being wounded. But this was beyond bandaging and stitching. This wasn't a wound we could isolate and...

A wound! As soon as I had the thought I was reminded of Macey's attempts to cradle the knife wound to her side. I gripped the bottom of Macey's shirt and ripped the stitching apart, letting the strips fall back away from the area.

The bandage was still in place. A slight stain showed on it when blood had seeped through the material before the bleeding stopped.

Bex and I leaned forward slightly and then recoiled instantly with an exclamation of disgust.

"What is it?" Liz asked quickly (and for the second time in the past two minutes).

"It smells foul. I think that may be where the trouble lies." Mentally, I kicked myself. I should have thought of that sooner. Sure, the wound was serious, but I hadn't a reason to suspect any connection between it and Macey's current behavior.

Bex slit the bandage and lifted it away. The flesh around it was coated with a discolored mass of oozing, vile fluid. The rotting smell we'd noticed was all too evident. We all instantly recoiled from it.

"But..." Bex seemed at a loss for words and her accent was coming in waves. None of us had ever seen something like this develop in a clean wound in such a short amount of time.

"There must have been something on the knife," Liz said finally.

I looked at her. Her face was pale.

"Poison," Liz said briefly. She began to pace. "Or they could've injected a parasite or virus or—" Liz rattled on, growing more hysterical.

I stood and went over to the corner of the cabin, where our three backpacks were in a small pile. Cautiously, I reached into the middle compartment of mine and withdrew the long knife, the dried blood of my roommate still coating its steel blade. I stood in front of the firelight and held it up above my head.

That sense of helplessness and uncertainty began to well up in my chest again as I saw the discolored, gummy substance coating the first few inches of the tip. I passed it to Liz and her eyes grew wide.

"Do you have any idea what it is? The poison, I mean?" Bex asked. She had her hand protectively on Macey's shoulder.

Liz's brows knotted in a frown. Finally, she shook her head. "No. But..." She stopped pacing and looked up at us. "I could run some tests—find out what poison it is so we can counter it."

"Do it." We didn't have time to hesitate. While Liz got to work I touched my finger to the skin. Yesterday, it had been hot to the touch. Today, its temperature was relatively normal.

"Still hot?" Bex asked.

I shook my head, puzzled. "No. It feels alright. But her forehead is burning up. I don't understand."

I wished desperately we'd been taught more about these things. Then a thought occurred to me.

"Unless," I said slowly, "it means that the poison has moved on and is in her system now...working its way through her." I looked up and met Bex's worried gaze, then shook my head helplessly. "I just don't know, guys. I just don't know enough about all this."

I suddenly understood what the men wearing lab coats in the Circle complex had meant.

_"I suppose it is only a matter of time _now_."_

Bex busied herself with recleaning the wound and I soaked more linen strips in cool water and laid them over Macey's forehead, trying to cool her down. She was still stirring and groaning, but her jaw was now clenched tight.

By now Liz had finished the tests. I was hoping for some good news, but that's not what we got.

"Well?" Bex prompted.

Liz silently point to the screen of the gadget. My eyes skimmed over the information; white blood cell count, red blood cell count (which was alarmingly low), active enzymes, et cetera. My eyes finally stopped on two words:

**UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE.**

Bex whirled around and punched the wall of the cabin, then cursed in Arabic. I just stood and stared pleadingly at the words as if they could change on command.

Sadly, they didn't.

"Can't we just whip up an antidote and see if it'll help?" I asked, glancing at the med kit. It was a desperate request for a desperate situation. But I already knew the answer before Liz said it aloud.

"Well, we don't know how the poison will react. It could make it worse and possibly...kill her."

The words were finally out in the open.

Dying.

Macey was dying.

Bex was stricken as she heard Liz say the word. She had spent hours refusing to confront it. Refusing to even consider it.

"Macey can't die! She can't! She won't! She's a Gallagher Girl! Our sister! She's..." She paused, then finished weakly, "She's Macey."

I remembered who Macey was when we'd met her and who she had become over the time I'd known her.

I remembered how she'd tried to protect me in the alleyway.

And I realized again Macey had become one of my best friends and one of the closest people in my life.

"Well," Liz recited, "with poisons that don't take effect immediately, the first forty-eight hours are usually the most critical."

I saw a glimmer of hope. Liz went on to explain, more confident now. "That's usually the way with these poisons. The victim will seem to recover, then will have a relapse. And each time, after each bout of consciousness, they're a little worse than before. But there's still a chance she can fight it past the forty-eight hour period."

I sat back onto the floor. I couldn't think of anything more we could do for Macey. It was up to her to fight it.

And we would be right here with her.

The cool cloths on her forehead seemed to be easing her a little. The groaning had died away and I could no longer see the muscles at the side of Macey's jaw clenched tight.

I sensed the wound itself was no longer the problem. It had been the source, but now the poison had moved on.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Major<em> plot twist!**

**I'm such an evil person...**

**Will Macey survive? Will help arrive in time? Why am I asking _you_ all these questions?**

**Be on the lookout for chapter 11!**

_**Brought to you by a T0aster. A Radical one. :-)**_

_**~RadicalT0aster**_

_**P.S.**_ **I received a very generous number of reviews after updating last, and let me just say it totally warmed my heart! Thanks so much for your feedback and support. It means the world to me. ^_^**

**And at long last, school is out! Now I'll have so much more free time to write and work on _To Save a Sister_. I hope you're as excited as I am!**


	11. Awakening

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 11**

**"Awakening"**

According to Liz, the storm outside would be raging for awhile, but there were more than enough provisions in the cabinets of the cabin and a decent amount of firewood. I sat dozing against the wall, where I found myself a lot lately. Liz was fumbling with her tech and Bex was pacing back and forth across the room, muttering (and in multiple languages).

Around this time, Macey's eyes opened again. For a moment or two, she looked around, puzzled, as she tried to remember what had happened, why she was lying in the middle of the room covered with a blanket from the waist down. Then it seemed to come back to her. She glanced down at her loosely bandaged side, saw the swollen, discolored flesh and must've felt the heat that shot through it.

She made a small sound in her throat and my head shot up.

"Macey!" I cried, my voice full of relief. I edged closer and seized Macey's hand that didn't have any broken fingers. The return grip was surprisingly weak and I felt a thrill of alarm. Then I dismissed it. Macey had been close to death. She would take some time to recover.

"You're all right now," I said.

Macey glanced around, her misty eyes falling on Bex.

"I don't remember you muttering this much before." She sounded like she'd been eating gravel.

Bex's pacing came to a screeching halt and she locked eyes with Macey's. I saw the tears that sprang to her eyes.

Liz stopped fumbling with her gadgets and dashed over with Bex.

"My god, Macey," I exclaimed, "it's good to see you awake again! We thought we'd lost you for a while. But now you're on the mend."

I caught the quick flash of apprehension in Macey's eyes, instantly masked, and suddenly a horrible thought struck me.

"Macey? You are all right, aren't you? Of course you are! You're awake and talking. Maybe a little weak but you'll get your strength back and heal up and before you know it we'll be..." I stopped, realizing I was babbling, aware that I was talking to convince myself, not the girl who lay before us.

There was a long silence that followed. Forty-seven seconds, to be exact.

"Tell me."

Macey hesitated, and then glanced down at her injured stomach. She drew a deep breath before she spoke.

"You understand the blade was poisoned, don't you?"

I nodded and pointed to myself. "Spy." I allowed a small smile to creep onto my features, but stopped short when I saw her wince.

I continued answering her question. "I should have thought of it earlier."

"We all should have," Liz said, not letting me take the self-blame, and Bex nodded in agreement.

Macey gave a slight shake of her head. "But I should have considered it. I should have realized the Circle would have something up their sleeves." She made a sound in her throat that might've been an attempt at laughing. "I should have realized it when I started talking to the shadows on the walls."

She paused. "I vaguely remember going a little crazy. Something was shaking me, and there was yelling."

I nodded. "That's when we really got worried."

"You started thrashing and shouting and were running a fever," Liz added.

Macey's voice dropped to an even quieter whisper and her eyes glazed over slightly as she looked at me. "I thought they were after you again, Cammie." She brought her hand to her head, felt the bandage that covered it, and then seemed to find something very interesting in that hand and stared at it for several seconds.

Bex and I looked at each other, wondering if the poison was affecting her mind as well.

"Oh, yeah," Macey said, her hand falling back down to her side and her eyes falling back on mine. "Sorry for hitting you."

The way she said it made it sound like she'd broken some kind of super-important friendship oath or something and my eyebrows shot up. Bex just laughed.

"I was planning on making you a gift basket."

I smacked her arm.

Macey might've said something else but her words died away to a mutter and she drifted into sleep. The three of us sat and watched over her. Perhaps she would recover. Perhaps a good rest was all she needed. In the next days, Macey would be on the road to recovery.

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><p>Sometime later Bex must've noticed my tired, red-rimmed eyes and led me away to the fire, forcing me to eat some of the canned corn we'd cracked open. (I'd never thought corn as having a rubbery taste, but evidently I was proven wrong.)<p>

When I'd recovered my composure a little we discussed what Liz had said about the poison and the possible outcome we faced. Bex was determined to keep a positive frame of mind.

"But she said she _could_ get better?" she insisted.

"Yeah," I said. "She said the next forty-eight hours would be the most important."

"She's sleeping peacefully now," Bex noted. "None of that tossing and turning. I think she's getting better. I definitely think she's getting better."

I nodded several times. "You're right. All she needs is a good's night's rest. In the morning, she'll be fine."

And for the second time, I was trying to convince myself.

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><p><strong>Shortest chapter of all of them, but I promise I'll provide more next chapter.<strong>

**And let me just say "Thank You!" to all of you wonderful readers out there for helping drive me to push forward with **_**To Save a Sister **_**and you're awesome reviews. Why? Because I've become pretty damn _depressed_ these last few days by looking at other stories with fewer chapters and a ton more reviews.**

**I mean, if nobody likes the story, I can always just quit. It's that simple.**

**Seems to me that if I were to just conjure up a Cammie/Zach (or Zammie) story, I'd get a lot more reviews than I do trying my hardest and all my free time writing this one.**

**Want me to continue? Let me know, and I will. Otherwise, I don't know if I'll throw out my notebook or not.**

**So review. Please.**

**Bye.**


	12. Hallucinations

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 12**

**"Hallucinations"**

Us three took turns watching over the stricken Gallagher Girl through the night. She slept peacefully, without any sign of distress. Around three in the morning, she woke briefly and I tried to fill her in on all the details we'd forgotten to mention, but I didn't get to it all before she fell asleep again and it seemed that she was winning the battle against the poison.

The hours passed slowly. I was pretty sure Bex's pacing was carving a moat into the floor and Liz would eventually get electrocuted if she took anything else apart and then reconstructed it for the umpteenth time. Most of the time, Macey lay still.

I stroked her long black hair, combing through the tangles with my fingers, noticing the lighter splotches where blood had stained her hair and scalp. If I were Macey, one of the first things I'd want to do when I recovered and was back at the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women would be to take a shower and brush my teeth. People seriously underestimate those things, you know.

I ran my tongue experimentally across my teeth, and figured I'd want to brush my teeth if I were me, too.

From time to time she would rouse herself to toss and turn, muttering a few words, none of which made much sense.

Occasionally, I heard our names mentioned, and once, Preston's. But most of the time Macey's mind seemed to be in a different place.

Whenever Macey began these muttered outbursts, I would hurry to kneel beside her. We kept a supply of cloths soaking in cool water, because Liz noticed that Macey's tossing and turning usually coincided with an increase in her temperature. It was never as dry and burning as it had been on the first day, but she was obviously uncomfortable, and Bex would mop her face and brow with the damp, cool cloths, crooning a wordless tune of comfort as she did so, just like she'd done to me in our suite after discovering the Circle had taken our roommate.

It seemed to settle her down, and after a few minutes of these ministrations, she would fall into a deep, untroubled sleep once more, her head lolling to the side.

Infrequently, she would wake and become lucid. Usually, she knew who and where she was and what had happened to her. On these occasions, we took the opportunity to coax her to eat a little. I felt Macey needed nourishment. She was looking weaker and weaker every time she awoke. Her voice was no more than a thin croak.

Once, she was awake and conscious for more than an hour and my hopes soared.

The next time Liz woke me for my watch, Macey was still sleeping, and as far as I could tell, she hadn't moved in the time I'd been asleep. I was hoping to wake up and find Macey wide awake and recovered—or at least on the road to recovery. The sight of the unmoving shape filled me with sadness.

I walked over to where the fire was still blazing in the small fireplace and stared into the flames, a million thoughts running through my head like some city-wide marathon. The silence in the room and warmth from the flames made me drowsy and I rested my head against my chest, closing my eyes.

"Falling asleep standing up? I thought you were a chameleon, not a horse."

I swung around, startled by the sound of Macey's voice.

Macey sounded stronger and more positive than she had the last time she had spoken.

I moved closer to her, seizing her right hand. "Macey! You're awake! How're you feeling?"

Macey didn't answer immediately. She peered at me leaning over her and tried to raise her head a little but then let it drop back, defeated.

"Who's that?" she said. "Can't see too clearly for some reason. Must have taken a knock on the head, did I?"

"It's me, Macey. And no, you were..."

Before I could to explain what had happened, Macey began talking again, and my heart sank as I realized that, despite the strength in Macey's voice, she was even more far gone now than she had been before.

"That Circle of Cavan, wasn't it? With their helicopter. I never saw them till we were on the roof."

I actually recoiled a little in shock. That was when Macey and I were attacked at the convention in Boston. That semester we'd all thought they were after Macey, her being Gillian Gallagher's descendant and great-great granddaughter and all, but it turned out they were after me all along. And that's why they'd attacked us and the reason Macey was tortured and poisoned to try and get information out of her. They were the reason Macey was in the condition she was in, and I felt red-hot hatred boil in my stomach.

That was the event from the past that was now foremost in Macey's wandering mind. Her next words confirmed my suspicions.

"Are you all right, Cammie? Thought I was too late getting to you. Hope I didn't let you down."

There was a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I squeezed her hand.

"You'd never let me down, Macey. I know that."

Macey smiled and closed her eyes briefly. Then she opened them once more and there was a strange calm in them.

"Don't know if I'm going to make it this time, Cammie," she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

I felt my heart lurch with sadness—more at the tone of acceptance than the words themselves.

"You'll make it, Macey. Of course you'll make it! We need you. I need you."

"Been a long road, hasn't it? You've been a good friend..."

"Macey...," I began.

But Macey smiled again, a sad little smile that said she didn't believe the words she was hearing. "It's nice," she said dreamily. "I like this. I like the water." She recalled the time we'd been taken to Mr. Solomon's safe house after the attack in Boston.

Macey's sense of time and events seemed hopelessly jumbled, hopelessly out of kilter. But she was searching my face now, obviously seeing only a blur and waiting for a reply.

"Cam? You still there?"

"I'm here, Macey."

Bex and Liz had crept over to listen to the conversation. Bex, usually fearless and brave, looked like she was about to break. Or rather, break something. Better yet, some_one._ Preferably a Circle operative. Liz had silent tears streaking down her face. I swallowed past the huge lump in my throat, desperately forcing the hot, stinging tears back as they threatened to force their way out through my eyes.

"Thought maybe you'd gone," Macey said. Then, with a trace of her sardonic grin, added, "Thought maybe I'd gone."

I had to keep Macey talking. If she was talking, she was alive. That was all I knew at this point.

There was a long pause. Unable to speak, I squeezed her hand once more. Macey made another effort to raise her head and managed to get it a few centimeters off her makeshift pillow. Her face was pale and beaded in sweat. Even though she was covered with a blankets and spare jackets, she shivered.

"One more thing...Tell Preston..." She hesitated and I was about to prompt her when she managed to continue. "Oh...never mind. I think he already knows."

That last effort seemed to exhaust her and her eyes slowly closed.

I opened my mouth to scream my grief, but realized her chest was still rising and falling. The movement was slow. But she was still breathing. Still alive.

Liz murmured words of comfort as I buried my face in her small shoulder and wept. Maybe from fear. Maybe from anguish. Maybe from relief that our friend continue to live.

Maybe from all three.

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><p><strong>It's...*sniff* just so...touching! *blows nose very audibly*<strong>

**I laid this moment on pretty deep, huh? I wanted a really emotional chapter, and I felt this was a good one. Even after writing the draft, proofreading it, and typing it and uploading it, it still makes me moved and I am very proud to have pulled off such dramatic writing.**

**I hope you feel the same way and are touched emotionally or internally in some way.**

**Thanks to all who want me to continue with _To Save a Sister_. Warms my heart. ^_^**

**As always, there are more chapters to come. :)**

**Have a great day-slash-night-slash-evening-slash-afternoon-slash...oh to heck with it. I'm going to bed.**


	13. The Meaning of Sisterhood

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 13**

**"The Meaning of Sisterhood"**

Macey was still asleep and seemed to be resting easily. I think I prefer Macey that way, compared with the way she had been—talking about past incidents with the Circle of Cavan. There had been something decidingly unnerving about that. It forced me to acknowledge the fact that Macey was seriously ill, even close to death. The sight of her resting peacefully was more encouraging.

I wanted to believe—or at least could hope—that Macey was actually recovering from the effects of the poison. Liz, logistically speaking, knew that it was only a matter of time before Macey woke again and rambled on about events past.

But hope doesn't always follow logic, and I clung to it desperately.

Sometime later I was relieved and surprised to find Macey awake and lucid.

As all four of us talked, it became apparent that Macey knew where we were and what had happened. Her mind was well and truly back in the present.

Liz glanced at the screen of one of her gadgets and her eyes lit up. She let out a noise of excitement.

"Hey, guys. Look at this!" She walked over to us and flashed the weather radar (pocket-sized; For All Meteorologists on the Go!) in our direction. A large mass of white (indicating snow, for those of you who don't watch the Weather Channel or hacked into the latest NASA weather satellite as of late, though we all know Liz will always be one step ahead of us in that area) was drifting off the screen. "The storm has passed us."

Macey looked momentarily puzzled over the news, so Bex jumped in to explain.

"Now Ms. Morgan and Mr. Solomon can get a chopper in so that we can go home."

Home.

I felt a huge rush of relief at the news. We could finally get Macey some help. Although even in a helicopter operated by the best spies I'd ever known, the time it would take to travel from Roseville, Virginia to the outskirts of Norway would take sixteen hours at the least, give or take. The question I was asking myself was if Macey would deteriorate any further and if her body could continue fighting the poison.

But Bex and Liz's renewed confidence was enough for me to push the thought aside, filing it away.

"Did you make contact with them?" I asked.

Liz nodded. "I talked to your mom. They're heading our way."

I glanced at Macey. She stared blankly at the low ceiling, her arms limp at her sides.

"What's wrong?"

"How long did you say I've been unconscious?" Her gaze didn't move.

"You've been fading in and out for two days," Bex answered. "Tomorrow will be the third day."

She didn't mention that for us, it felt _way _longer than that. 'Cause when the life of one of your best friends is hanging by a thin cord, worry and uncertainty takes over your mind and time passes twice—no, three times—as slow.

The frown on Macey's face deepened. Her gaze stayed where it was.

Now I was really concerned. I mean, besides her physical condition and the whole poison thing.

"What? What are you thinking about?" I pressed her.

She didn't answer immediately and seemed to ponder on whether or not to respond.

"Nothing."

"Come on, spit it out," Bex said, not uncaring.

Macey's body language said she had been on the brink of giving in, and Bex provided the mental shove.

"I'm..." Macey said slowly, drawing the words out, "...scared."

Liz, Bex and I looked confusedly at each other.

"Of _what_?" Bex asked, her brows knit in confusion as she stared down the girl lying in front of us. I knew Bex, and if something or someone was scaring our roommate, she would take care of it personally.

"I'm scared... of what people at school will say."

My jaw dropped. Those were some of the last words I expected to hear from Macey McHenry—the daughter of one of the most powerful families in the country that had appeared on the cover of magazines actually cared about what other people might think.

"I mean," Macey continued, her voice almost a whisper, "exactly how many Gallagher Girls have managed to get themselves captured by the enemy?"

It was probably intended as a rhetorical question, because as Liz drew breath to interrupt, Macey cut her off.

"And how many can't even take on three other people on a roof in Boston without relying on backup?" She addressed me, but still her gaze was locked. "Everybody said how if you wouldn't have been there..." She trailed off with a sigh. I remembered Liz saying those exact same words right after school had started again after summer break.

Macey's skin seemed to go (if this were even physically possible at this point) a shade paler. Anger burned through the fog covering her eyes.

"Let's face it," she said, almost all of the fight gone from her, "I'm not smart like you, Liz. I'm not strong like you, Bex. And I sure as hell can't blend in like you do, Chameleon."

Her voice was admirable. Envious.

She closed her eyes. "I might have Gilly's blood in my veins, but in comparison, I'm just...

"_Weak_." Her fingernails dug into the wood floor as she said the word, as if the physical interaction could distract her from the mental anguish.

The silence in the room grew infinitely louder. All I could do was look at my friends' faces in the uneven, flickering circle of light of the fire, which seemed to dim significantly. I wonder how long Macey had been thinking the thoughts, belittling herself like that and eating away at her own self-confidence. When she compared herself to us in a way like she'd just done, it made me feel a flush of pride that she'd talk about us in such terms, and also a sense of...

Guilt.

I remembered how Macey'd yelled at me to run, how she'd spat into the face of her captor.

Macey McHenry was anything but weak—she was brave, strong, and beautiful. I just didn't understand how she could feel overshadowed.

Once, she had told me she didn't want to be Macey McHenry. Only now did I think I realize what she'd possibly meant.

"It's like this..." Macey said. Her voice sliced through the silence. "If I hadn't come into the picture, you three could hold your own. But by myself...I'm just..." —her nails raked softly across the grains in the wood as she curled her fingers into a gentle fist—

"_Insignificant_."

_'If I hadn't come into the picture...'_

She made it sound like she'd invaded our lives or something. And in a way, she had.

But it was in a good way (despite the rocky start to our friendship, of course. But that wasn't important anymore).

Bex's mouth was hanging open and I could see the gears in Liz's head (like mine were) trying to churn out reasons to convince her otherwise.

But Bex beat us to it.

She put on her spy face and gripped Macey's jaw and turned her head towards her. Macey flinched slightly at the sudden, unexpected movement, but Bex was determined to change Macey's mindset.

"Macey, if you seriously think that, the Circle must've done something to alter your way of thinking if you honestly believe you're any less significant than any of us." Her accent was strong and her words were steel. She slackened her grip slightly. "_You are a Gallagher Girl_. One of us. We are sisters. And you belong in the sisterhood."

Her face relaxed and she smiled. "And do you know _why_ we call it a 'sisterhood'?" She paused for effect.

"Because we need _each other_... and we need _you_."

And the Oscar goes to... Rebecca Baxter!

Macey opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to form the words she couldn't quite find.

I found myself smiling. "Couldn't have said it any better myself."

Bex snorted. "Bloody right, you couldn't have."

A lone tear streaked its way through the blood and grime on her face, and Macey's eyes closed, her body untensed, and as she drifted into unconsciousness once more, her lips formed an expression I hadn't seen in a while;

She was smiling.

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><p><strong>In response to what you're thinking: YES, I KNOW IT IS CORNY.<strong>

**That's right. I went there. With all the heart-felt moments and such.**

**Another short chapter. Don't hate me for it. I try my best to spit out decent chapters to supply the demand.**

**This was personally one of my favorite chapters to write, along with chapter 12 (Hallucinations).**

**More chapters are on the way! ^_^ *pulls out spiral notebook dramatically, then looks around* As soon as I find a pen...! (-.-)**

_**Side note: Seriously, though. I can never find a good pen! All I have are the cheap-o ones that come in packs of thirty for a dollar! Honestly...**_

_**Maybe that's why people look at me funny when I practically dive to the ground when I see a good pen in the hallway...huh. **_***scratches head in thought***

**REVIEW RESPONSES (FOR ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS)**

**Raven'sEVOLtwin: No! This is NOT a femslash! It is clearly labeled in the Adventure/FRIENDSHIP genres. No femslashing going on here, I can assure you. :)**

**Review please!**


	14. The Calm of the Storm

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of-! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 14**

**"The Calm of the Storm"**

The next morning Liz was able to make contact with Mom again. A minute later a helicopter appeared on the horizon and dipped with expert navigation, carefully dropping through the tree cover and branches that obscured the cloudy sky. The whirling blades sent snow flying like dust and trees leaning sideways before coming to a soft landing. As Bex and Liz joined me outside, I saw three people pile out of the copper like a SWAT team, my mom, the best spy I'd ever known and was so happy to see in that moment I could've run into her arms and hugged her, in the lead. Mr. Solomon was among them. Shoot, I could've hugged him, too.

But I didn't want to pull off that _Sound of Music _reenactment right then. I dashed back into the cabin wordlessly when they came level with us, Mom and Mr. Solomon following suit. The third operative, which I recognized as the pilot who'd flown us here in the first place, winked at me and then waited outside.

"How is she?" Mom asked.

"I...I don't know." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. After all, taking the facts that I know fourteen different languages and how to kill a man seven different ways using my bare hands into consideration, I felt like I should know a lot more than I already do. Like why the Circle wants me in the first place, or where my father disappeared to.

_Somebody somewhere knows._

The tricky part was finding that certain someone. The one with all the answers. Or at least some of them.

She kneeled in front of her student, who we'd propped up against the wall, her head resting against her chest.

"Ms. McHenry, can you hear me?"

Macey made an attempt to raise her head and look at her, but then the effort of waking up became too great, the fog of poison too thick, and with the weakest of sighs her body went slack and she returned to the blissful, painless darkness of unconsciousness her body longed for.

The poison as sapping the energy right out of her, and one of the brain's reactions to this extreme energy depletion was to completely shut down the unnecessary functions of the body. What worried me were the ever-increasing intervals of sleep that were occurring more and more frequently.

It's hard to describe in words a grief that is so severe that your body physically collapses underneath the pressure of it all… that feeling where a streamline of fight-or-flight responses get triggered one after the other so rapidly that the only response you can come up with is to just shut everything down completely, reboot yourself in one final effort to achieve the calm you so desperately craved…

Mr. Solomon stepped forward and picked up Macey's unconscious, limp form and carried her to the waiting helicopter.

The helicopter that would bring us home.

And to help.

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><p>The copter was small, made for speed whilst sacrificing capacity. Needless to say, Bex and Liz and I were scrunched pretty tight together on the small bench. Not that I minded, of course. The chilly air was beginning to seep through my clothes again and the combined body heat helped to keep it at bay. And I was bone tired, having not slept very at-ease over the course of events. I laid my head on Liz's shoulder and tried to keep my eyes open long enough to finish answering my mother's questions, which I felt coming before she even opened her mouth and said,<p>

"Cameron, Rebecca, Elizabeth—"

"Poison." We couldn't afford to beat around the bush. Macey was hanging on for dear life, and the cord was slowly fraying, getting thinner and thinner. "She's been poisoned, Mom."

Her eyes grew wide.

"Well did you counter it?" As the headmistress, she knew full well that our curriculum included the counteracting of things such as this. I only wished I'd realized the true significance of it before this whole thing happened. And to our roommate.

"The tests came up as an unknown substance. We couldn't make an antidote without knowing what poison it was," Bex informed her sadly. "And if we assumed wrong..." She didn't finish. She didn't need to. We were all spies here, and we all knew what could very well happen should an operative mix the life-draining venom with the wrong antidote. The results could—and would most likely—be deadly.

"An unknown poison? Are you sure?"

"Since when have Liz's gadgets ever faltered before?" I asked her, and her worry became more evident.

"Please, Mom," I whispered. I didn't trust myself to speak any louder. "You have to help her."

I looked at Macey, who still hadn't stirred once since we had departed from the ground. Bex cradled her thin and fragile form in her lap, her head draped over her arm. It pained me to witness how vulnerable she looked. Instead of strong, graceful, confident Macey McHenry, she'd been reduced to a weak, shambling, delirious shadow of her former self. I could only hope that former self was somewhere inside of the broken girl in my friend's arms, who had her arms firmly wrapped around her like the Circle would materialize right in front of us and snatch her away again.

The thoughts I were conjuring up out of my sleep-deprived imagination were taking a sharp turn south, so I made an attempt to grab the wheel and take a U-turn around to the north.

We were only hours away from Gallagher Academy, the safest place I knew of and the place I'd come to know as home. The Circle of Cavan couldn't touch us there, couldn't hurt us. And Mom would ensure our sister would get the best care possible.

Macey would be fine.

Wouldn't she?

Mom leaned forward from the bench across from us and put her hand on my mine. "Don't worry about a thing, girls," she promised, choosing to address us as one this time. "Now get some rest. You've earned it."

I needed no further urging and my eyelids shut of their own accord.

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><p>My body was jostled slightly as the small helicopter made landing on the tennis courts, effectively waking me up. It was dark out. I glanced at my watch. We'd made awesome time as far as distance was concerned. Fourteen hours, fifty-seven minutes and thirty-two seconds, which was just as well, because before I could fully slap myself awake the doors slid open nosily and they rushed Macey to the infirmary. Bex grabbed my wrist and dragged me up from my seat, following closely on their heels. We were about to walk—or rather <em>run-slash-sprint<em>—through the door but Mr. Mosckowitz intercepted us.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but you can't go in—"

"But—"

"—because headmistress Morgan has requested a word in her office," he continued like I hadn't tried to persuade him otherwise. He smiled at me encouragingly. "Don't worry, Ms. Morgan. Baxter. Sutton." He looked to us each in turn. "We'll be sure to do everything we can. Now don't keep your mother waiting." And as he got the final word, he slinked around the door frame and closed it behind him.

"'We'll be sure to do everything we can,'" Bex said in an uncanny imitation of Mr. Mosckowitz's voice—for a _girl_, that is. "We'll it'd better be enough," she added with words like steel that sliced through the silence in the Hall of History. The hallways were empty at this hour.

Lucky for us. I don't think I could've handled the bombarding of questions from my classmates right now.

We dragged ourselves into my mother's office. And for the third time in a week, I meant it literally. Bex was holding my arm around her shoulders like I might fall asleep standing up and hit my head on something—though at this point I don't think I could've handled another concussion without suffering some kind of permanent brain damage.

Mom was sitting at her desk, resting her head on her hands. Mr. Solomon (surprise, surprise!) leaned against her desk and Buckingham and Mr. Smith were there, too. I was actually surprised Mr. Smith hadn't changed his face in the time we'd been gone. But hey, I've seen stranger things in my life.

The three of us sat down wordlessly onto the leather couch. Mom got up and lowered herself down to the coffee table. She looked almost as tired as I felt.

I didn't need any additional prompting as she raised her eyebrows, and we began to retell _all_ of the details...

No matter how much it hurt to relive them.

* * *

><p>We piled into the infirmary and immediately scanned the room for our roommate. It wasn't hard, considering she was the only patient occupying one of the beds. I sat down in the chair next to the bed and took her hand in my own. She didn't return the grip and her hand had a slight twinge of cold to it. I rubbed her fingers between my hands, trying to get the circulation going. Her skin was so pale.<p>

I had momentarily forgotten that Bex and Liz were standing behind me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at Bex.

"Come on, Cammie. We can't do anything for her now."

I realized she was right. Now we were just getting in the way of the nurses bustling quietly about the room.

Bex led me to the far corner of the room, where we pulled up three unoccupied chairs and "made camp." We could still see Macey from where we were seated and could oversee that nothing else bad would happen, though there was no way we could predict that. Regardless, if she would happen to sink even deeper into danger, we would be there to offer help in any way we could.

"I suppose I can't force you three to leave," the voice of Joe Solomon said as his form walked through the door and over to us. "But are you sure you want to wait it out? You still have classes on Monday, you know... and today's Saturday."

"You'd better believe we do," Bex responded with accent full-on, and Liz and I coursed our agreement.

Mr. Solomon nodded and a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "As I expected."

And then he left.

A man of few words.

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><p><strong>In response to what you're thinking: YES! THEY ARE FINALLY OUT OF THE GOD DAMNED CABIN! WOO HOO FOR PROGRESS! *eye roll* AND <strong>**YES! I DO OVERUSE LINE BREAKS!**

**The chapter title can be deceiving, because there will be many more chapters to come! I have a bunch of separate chapters and ideas scribbled down; I just have to have them all connect in some way. So there will be much more to come, I can tell you that much! ^_^**

**REVIEW RESPONSES (FOR ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS)**

**Raven'sEVOLtwin: I have absolutely NOTHING against lesbians or gays or bisexuals. I feel everybody deserves to be happy and everybody deserves equal acceptance. We're all people and we're all equal. Cammie and Macey wouldn't make a **_**bad**_** couple, per-se, but I'm trying to stay as true to the Gallagher Girls books by Ally Carter as possible. Sorry if it comes off as femslash in some parts, but that wasn't my intention.**

**Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing! :D**

_**Side note: Expect less frequent updates. I just got my permit for driver's ed, and in the time I'm not slaving over this story, I'll most likely be dodging inanimate objects. (I'm comin' for YOU, mail boxes!)**_

**Thank you and good night! (Or morning, evening, afternoon, whatever floats-slash-sinks your boat.)**


	15. Apprehension

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of-! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 15**

**"Apprehension"**

The next morning my internal clock was set ringing at seven o'clock sharp, which was rather annoying. Now normally I wouldn't mind this, but seeing as how our mission had gone... how should I put it...?

"Damn, I'm tired," I heard Bex yawn next to me.

Yeah. That about sums it up.

"Ditto," Liz said likewise.

"Stole the words right out of my mind," I joked and rolled my head, hearing and feeling my neck crack nosily. I'd learned in Norway that sleeping sitting _against a wall_ was not the best position for your joints. Well, add _sleeping in a chair_ to that list.

A bed sounds nice right about now. Or rather, yesterday.

We had only just begun stretching stiffly in our chairs when we were ushered out of the room by some of the nurses I'd seen last night. They told us we could come back later, of course, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

Well, truth be told, it _did_ give us an excuse to go take showers we desperately needed and refill our personal hygiene meters a bit. Macey's dried blood was still on my hands, and I wanted to wash the reminder away and down the drain. Not that it would change anything, of course, but it just made my mind run farther and farther away from the present and into the past, into the helicopter and into the dusty, fire-lighted cabin; onto the rooftop and into the alleyway, into the corner of a dead end with Bex holding my shoulders and asking what had happened.

The more I pondered this the more I realized again and again that memories were both a blessing and a curse. It was the situation that made them which one they are.

The past week had been nothing but curses.

But those curses also helped conjure up some blessings.

Like life.

Laughter.

Friendship.

Sisterhood.

"Hey, Chameleon!" Bex sang, rapping on the door. "You didn't pass out in there, did you?"

I realized I'd been zoning out. I still held the hand towel in my hands, so I shook myself out of it and tossed it to the side, opening the door as I did so.

"Sorry. Just got lost in thought," I explained.

Bex flicked a glance at me, shook her head, then took a longer look.

"What happened to your tan?"

"It was dirt."

She grinned, and we couldn't help sharing a laugh.

My "tan" wasn't that only thing that'd been upgraded on the lightness scale. Liz's blonde hair no longer had streaks of brown in it, kind of like when she came back every summer from Alabama with her hair lighter from the sun, only once again, it was dirt. Bex still looked like an Egyptian goddess.

I never appreciated our uniforms more as I looked at the tornado of black attire that had rolled through our suite and left all of our mission clothes on the beds. Unlike baggy cargo pants and three jackets, my uniform was familiar and smelt of home. Not to mention allowed more flexibility in the arms department. (I mean, three jackets... need I say more?)

My stomach growled loudly, telling me it was time and reminding me of the rather tasteless provisions I'd consumed the past three days, and at this point I could practically drown myself in our chef's Belgian waffles and die a happy, happy girl.

We didn't get halfway to the Grand Hall before I heard, "Cammie!" and someone barreled into me, and despite some very rigorous P&E training, it was hard not to lose my balance.

Now can you guess who would be the first person to try and get the scoop on an infiltration mission one of your classmates had been on in a foreign country and lived to tell the tale?

If you guessed Tina Walters, you'd be correct. (Though in her defense, news travels fast at Gallagher, and even though Mom does her best to hide things that are uber-secret, if you connect the dots of three missing sisters—or rather, four—and a missing helicopter...it doesn't take a genius to figure out.)

If you guessed anybody else, you're a bleeping idiot.

She threw her arms around me. "Cammie! We were so worried!" I knew by "_we_," she was referring to the entire junior class. "You guys are going to have to tell me _everything_."

After Tina relinquished her grasp and allowed me to get oxygen back into my lungs (and/or brain), I still felt my breath catch in my throat.

_Everything_?

I don't think I could handle telling her _everything_ as in everything everything, no holds barred. There was too much to tell.

Too much to relive.

Again.

Tina put her arm around Bex's shoulders. "I heard there was a huge explosion of a top-secret facility in Norway," she said in a singsong voice.

"Sure. And I'm Barney, the Purple Dinosaur," Bex retorted.

"I'll try not to hold that against you," Liz told her with a straight face and I couldn't help myself; I laughed.

Bex shot me an amused glance before striding out of Tina's hold and into the Grand Hall. She didn't even break stride as we made our way to our usual seats at the junior table, ignoring the questions that came pouring out of the mouths of...gosh, I don't know..._a lot_ of girls. I tried to answer some of the easier ones between mouthfuls of _heaven_, but one stopped me mid-chew.

"Where's Macey?"

And just like that, my appetite was gone again and the table went silent. The news of Macey's capture had not settled well with the rest of our sisterhood, to put it lightly. Let's just say the dummies and punching bags in the P&E barn were more disheveled than usual and the Research and Development division had been working overtime.

I looked across from me at Bex and Liz, who must've felt my gaze swing to them because theirs swung to mine at the same time.

Did we know _where_ Macey was? Yes.

Did we know _how_ Macey was? Yes and no. The yes being, well, bad. The no being, well, we don't know _how _bad.

And finally Bex seemed to settle on the most straight-forward response one could come up with when lots of eyes are staring at you expectantly:

"Infirmary," she said briefly, like she were talking about whether it was going to rain or not or what homework was due for Dr. Fibs' class (which I learned just so happened to be mixing chemicals to create invisible ink). Her tone and body language said quite clearly there would be no other detailed explanations.

There was a low murmur of conversation and whispering at this news, most likely rumors that would spread like wildfire and become blown considerably out of proportion.

A second question jumped out at us, again causing our eyes to meet and our forks to freeze. I figured I looked pretty...what's the word?..._ unintelligent_ with my mouth open and a bagel poised halfway to my mouth, so I set it back down on my plate. I wasn't exactly hungry anymore.

I didn't know how to answer "How is she?" or "What's wrong with her?", but I used Bex's example as a base for my straight-forwardness.

"Not so good," I responded to the first question, then the second. "A lot of things."

Yeah. That about sums it up.

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><p><strong>Another short chapter. Don't hate me for it. Next one should be longer. *cowers behind computer screen as objects are thrown*<strong>

**I tried to make this chapter a little less serious. You know, throw some jokes in here and there. But I still wanted to leave a little bit of (like the title indicates) _apprehension_ in there to where you guys are like, "Is the peace too good to be true?", not that any of you actually talk like that, but if you do, that's beast! :D**

**I'm writing the next chapter in my notebook (Yes, I have a notebook. Why? Because notebooks are cool!) even as I type out this author's note, so I'll get on that ASAP.**

**Lots more to come and lots more surprises in store! I'm really happy with how the next chapter is coming along and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do! :)**


	16. Deterioration, Numbers, and the Antidote

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

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><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 16**

**"Deterioration, Numbers, and the Antidote"**

We sat in the abandoned covert carrier pigeon breeding tower, the silence pressing in on us.

The surveillance summary charts and behavior patterns from when the Blackthorne boys had been staying in the East Wing still littered the floors. Liz fingered one of the wires leading to the East Wing.

"Besides, Dr. Fibs himself is concocting the antidote," she said confidently.

I'd felt a mass sense of relief once we'd gotten back to school, but that still didn't change how close Macey had come to dying, how easily she'd mixed up past and present. Until she was walking alongside us in the hallways and laughing with us in the Grand Hall, there would always be a small thread of uncertainty lingering in my gut.

Bex stood and stretched. "Well, how about instead of sitting here gathering dust on our shoulders we just head down there?" She started for the door. There was no changing Bex's motives when she was determined about something. Liz and I had no choice to follow. Sure enough, dust was blown from our shoulders as we walked.

The heels of our shoes tapped on the hardwood floors as we trekked downstairs to the school's infirmary.

"Anybody else..._unnerved?_" Liz asked. "I mean, by what Macey was saying in Norway?"

"Yeah," I said, and I meant it. "It's like she was lost in her own mind or something, the way she talked about Boston."

"Not only that," Liz continued. "Remember what she said _after _the storm had passed?"

I had to admit, that unnerved me, too. I didn't know how this whole ordeal would change one of my best friends. I didn't even know which parts she would remember—what we'd said to her or what she'd said to us. I could only hope the Circle didn't have a lasting effect on her mind. I didn't want that to be a burden for her to bear.

I couldn't help feeling responsible for what had happened. The Circle was after _me_. And they wanted me alive. They _needed_ me alive. And now they were hurting the people I loved just to get to me and me alone. I didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of that, of who I was, of what my dad and Mr. Solomon had written in their journals when they were my age.

I was in the middle of one giant freaking conspiracy.

As I pushed open the thick wooden door of the infirmary and turned the corner I heard a voice I recognized and stopped in my tracks. Bex and Liz ran into my backside and nearly plowed me over.

"Aunt Abby?" I blurted.

She turned to me. "Hey, squirt," she said. There were bags under her eyes and she slouched like she didn't have the energy to maintain perfect posture. I had a feeling Madame Dabney would disapprove, but my Culture & Assimilation teacher was far from my mind at this point.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, flabbergasted.

Just when you thought things couldn't get any more hectic...

_Naw_, because as most people say, Life is short, so, why not? Cram some more emotions into my already swimming thoughts and rather eventful week!

"Well, Fibs needed some assistance in concocting the, uh, antidote, for Ms. McHenry over there," Aunt Abby told me, giving a slight inclination with her head.

Macey's pale skin blended so perfectly against the white sheets that for a while, I didn't even realize that there was actually a person there at all, save for the dark hair sprawled across the pillows and down her shoulders. Her breathing was slow and rythmic, but shallow all the same. With each small breath her chest rose shakily and the bandages, stitches and burn indents temporarily stretched themselves. She might have been sleeping, but she was stiff, fighting a silent battle.

I pleaded with my eyes at my aunt. "And?" I was really hoping for some good news, and the alternative wasn't pleasant to contemplate.

Aunt Abby grinned and held up a small vial of light brown liquid. But then her face fell.

"It worries me that the Circle's poison was one we haven't encountered before. And the antidote formula was particularly difficult to find and produce. I only _just_ finished this dose." She gave the vial a flick and the liquid swished around in its container. She shrugged. "But we've done harder things in the past."

I remembered the two men in white lab coats walking down the hallway of the Circle complex and shuddered at the idea of what experiments they were conducting in that house of evil.

Aunt Abby saw my reaction and put her free hand on my shoulder. She tried to smile.

"Don't worry, squirt. Macey'll be fine."

"Uh, Abby?" Liz began tentatively. "What exactly does the poison...do?"

We had already witnessed some of the symptoms ourselves; hallucination, fever, involuntary muscle jerks... The list went on for a bit. But just like your can't judge a girl by her cover, you can't judge the internal damage by the physical reactions. Dr. Fibs had told us of certain poisons that are tasteless, odorless, and colorless that don't show any warning signs until minutes before _the end_. It was scary to contemplate. Let's just say I'm glad Dr. Fibs is on our side.

Aunt Abby set the vial on the bedside table and sat down. "Well, it's very rapid, considering what it does," she started sadly, and my anxiety thickened. "First it targets the muscle cells and the cells of internal organs. The venom breaks through the cell membrane and is absorbed into the nucleus, causing the cell to cave in and begin to deteriorate—or destroy—itself. This will, as you can imagine, send rapid and crippling pain waves to the brain that can actually damage the nerves of the nervous system."

She paused for breath. Next to me, Liz was taking notes—yes, actual _note taking_.

"As the body tries to fight off the venom, it only causes harm by increasing temperature and will result in an extremely high fever. At one-hundred-four degrees, one experiences bouts of consciousness and extreme hallucination as the venom targets the cerebrum—the part of the brain that stores memories..."

I kind of wanted to tell her to speak English, or one of the other thirteen languages I'm rather fluent in, but I didn't dare interrupt. But Bex didn't seem as self-conscious about it.

"Wait a second," said Bex. "So you mean Macey will begin to...lose her memories?"

My aunt shrugged at this. "Unfortunately, yes. But very, very slowly."

"But she'll still remember us, right?" I asked. I couldn't imagine Macey waking up and mistaking her sisters for strangers. "Gallagher and everything that's happened?"

Again, Aunt Abby shrugged. "She may remember some things, she may not. There's really no way to tell until she wakes up."

I felt a little better that she had chosen the term "_until_ she wakes up," instead of "_if_ she wakes up." I was grateful for the small reassurance. But her next words contradicted the new feeling inside my chest.

"And if the fever reaches one-hundred-six or higher..." She met our eyes with a look of sadness. Liz paused in her notes.

"...death."

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><p>Liz's favorite pen clattered to the floor, but she didn't seem to mind. I doubt anyone paid any attention to it or even heard it through the shock reverberating silently through the room.<p>

A spy's life wasn't measured with the grades we received on pop quizzes in Countries of Worlds or Culture & Assimilation, the amount of sparring matches we dominated over in P&E. Nope, those were just simulations compared to the real world, meant to prepare us for our lives ahead of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. A spy's life was measured in life or death situations.

And this was one major situation.

_Death_. I'd heard that word a lot over the past few days, and I hated hearing it. Death is one subject some people contemplate from time to time, sure. But spies can be put into situations that we think will be the last thing we remember. This was one such example. Only we were forced to watch it happen to someone you've known for a while, and it was their life on the line, not yours.

And that was perhaps the most painful thing overall.

"Well what's her temperature now?" Liz asked quickly, all notes forgotten.

Aunt Abby flipped through the papers of a clipboard. "One-oh-five-point-seven," she informed us gravely, "along with dehydration, malnutrition, a rather minor concussion, the index and ring finger on her left hand were fractured along with a rib, those burns are nothing to joke about, and the place where the knife was will be giving her some trouble for quite some time. Some of the cuts were worse than others, so all-in-all fifty-three stitches. I'm sure a little SkinAgain and aloe can heal the scarring right up, though."

_One-oh-five-point-seven_? A mere three-tenths of a degree and our roommate would be gone.

In the bed behind us, Macey coughed and turned her head. It was a pained cough, one that spoke of agony beyond words. Instantly, everyone in the room was alert. Within seconds Aunt Abby was crouched by the ill girl's side, listening for obstructed airways or worse. We were watching for any sort of warning sign. Had she simply stirred in her sleep? Or would this be the beginning of the end?

"Are you awake, McHenry?" my aunt asked quietly, probably not wanting to disturb her if she hadn't awoken. Sleep was the best way to heal, we had been taught. In this case, it could possibly slow the poison down, buy some more precious time. Aunt Abby was about to sit back again, but a weak voice froze her.

"Hurts..." whispered Macey, her voice a mere crack from sleep and injuries.

"I know, Macey," said Aunt Abby gently.

Aunt Abby met my eyes, saw the question in them and gave a slight nod and jerked her head in their direction.

I walked over to the bedside. I just needed to be sure. "Macey," I said softly. "Do you remember me? It's Cammie."

Her eyes, which had been closed until now, shot open. "Cammie!" she exclaimed, and immediately began to cough, undoubtedly aggravating her wounds. Aunt Abby waited until the fit had calmed down, holding the Gallagher Girl down gently but firmly with a hand on her chest.

With a sigh the eyes closed again and I thought she had gone back to her restless sleep, but she still remembered us, that part of her memory was still intact.

I was about to step away when suddenly a hand lashed out and grabbed the front of my shirt by the collar so fast I actually gave a yelp of surprise and Aunt Abby jumped back. The arm pulled me in with a jerk until I was teetering on the balls of my feet over the side of the bed and my face was only centimeters away from Macey's. Her eyes were wild and urgent, darting around my face like a flicker of light. I felt her breath on my face and it smelt of blood.

Of everything that's happened up till now, this—the look on her face, in her eyes—scared me the most. It was frightening. Frighteningly scary.

"What's—"

"—the...numbers..." she wheezed with the speed of a snail. She had somehow managed to prop herself up on one arm, but the slight effort was causing the arm and shoulder to shudder and shake with fatigue.

"Numbers?" I asked gently, like a mother would to a lost child.

Macey coughed again. "Numbers...lots of...don't know...mean...in my...head..."

Her grip was surprisingly tight on my shirt and she pulled me even closer. Our noses brushed. Her eyes still looked like they were desperately searching for me and I gently gripped her hand with both of my own to let her know I was still here, right in front of her. Her vision was obviously failing on her now.

"Cam...you have...to run...Cassandra...Circle...Gallagher...numbers...must...tell headmistress Morgan...figure them...solve...the equation..."

"Macey! I'm here, I'm here!" I coaxed her. Our foreheads were touching. The skin was hot and moist with sweat. Her fingernails—at one time long and flawless, now broken to the point that they only reached three-fourths the length of that of any man's—left small, tiny beads of blood on my shirt. The blood that she'd lost so much of.

"...the numbers...screaming...in my head..."

"What numbers?" I gripped her arm tighter. Her entire form was quivering. "Macey! You're not making any sense!"

"The numbers...don't know...have...Liz could...maybe...the numbers...numbers...numbers..."

Her grip slackened. The darting of her dazed eyes slowed down until they _finally_ locked with mine. The blue orbs glazed over. The pupils were dilating in and out, becoming smaller before enlarging again, then repeating the pattern.

"Macey!" I called again. "What are the numbers? What about them? Talk to me!"

"...numbers...numb...ers...num..." Her eyes slowly closed and she fell back against the bed. Her breathing was shallow but labored. The pressure left my collar and I gasped as I straightened up and backpedaled instinctively. My nerves were jittery and I was really, really unnerved and trying not to cry.

I had only taken about a step and a half when I felt somebody at my back. Bex gripped my shoulders to keep me from tripping over my own feet and falling to the floor. She turned me around and bent down, looking me up and down and searching my face.

"Are you okay, Cammie? You look like you've seen a ghost." Bex started straightening my uniform. I hardly felt her touch.

"That makes two of us," I muttered numbly. Her face was just as haunted as I suspected mine looked.

"Is she all right?" Liz asked.

Under the circumstances, it was a ridiculous question. Macey was anything but all right. _Delirious _was a more accurate description, but I couldn't help feeling what she was trying to tell me had been urgent, important. Something to do with numbers...that much was painfully obvious.

My roommate was unconscious again—not that I was sure whether she had even regained consciousness in that brief minute or not.

Aunt Abby drew breath to give a cutting reply, but stopped. It was a natural reaction on Liz's part.

"No," my aunt said. "She's in trouble. I'm afraid she's reached the final stages. Hand me the vial, please, Liz dear."

Liz passed it to her. Aunt Abby removed the stopper on the vial with her teeth.

"Hold her jaw open," she said briefly.

Bex knelt on Macey's other side and forced the Gallagher Girl's mouth open. Macey struggled against her, trying to toss her head from side to side to avoid her touch. But she was weakened by the ordeal of the past week and Bex was too strong for her. Aunt Abby leaned forward and allowed a few drops of the brown liquid to fall onto her tongue. Again, Macey reacted, arching her back and trying to break free.

"Hold her mouth shut until she swallows," my aunt said tersely. Bex obliged, clamping her hand over her mouth and closing it. Macey tossed restlessly. But after some time I saw her throat move and I knew she had swallowed the draft.

"Alright," Aunt Abby said. "You can let go."

Bex relinquished her iron grip on Macey's jaw. The Gallagher Girl coughed and spluttered and tried to rise. But now I had my hands on her shoulders, holding her down. After a minute or so, her movements gradually began to weaken. Her voice died away to a mumble and she slept, but her body language was more relaxed and was no longer tensed as if for flight. She looked almost at ease.

Aunt Abby signaled for us to relax. But I kept my eyes on Macey's face, looking for any sign of recovery, and once again tried to convince myself that she _would_ recover. After all, my aunt Abigail, a living legend in the spy world, had come to Gallagher and made the antidote herself. Macey was sound asleep in a bed in the infirmary, all patched up and healing slowly. She was alright and safe. That's what mattered. Macey was always someone who never showed any pain to anyone. A certain incident with Boston came to mind. But now she was lying in a cot almost bruised to death. What would happen when she found out that she showed a little bit of weakness?

Aunt Abby touched my shoulder gently, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Come on, squirt," she said. "It'll be a few hours before there's any improvement. For now, go get some rest. You look tired." I wondered if she knew I hadn't slept all that great last night. "I don't want Macey to recover only to find you've collapsed," she laughed.

Reluctantly, I stood and followed Bex and Liz. Now that she mentioned it, I was bone tired.

But there was one task left to be done.

"Aunt Abby," I called, and she turned, her eyebrows raised in a question.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

My aunt grinned and put her hands on her hips.

"It's what I do."

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><p><strong>Ironically<strong>** enough, I originally wrote this in biology class. ****Guess it kind of shows up in the chapter, huh. O_o**

**I hope the length of this chapter makes up for all the other shorter chapters I threw together.**

**So what are the numbers Macey was talking about? Will the antidote work? Since I already know the answers to those questions, you're just going to have to wait for the next chapter! Mwhahahaha! :)**

**Please please PLEASE review! Let me know how I did! (Even if I did really, really bad!) ;)**

_**Side note: It's the two-month anniversary of **_**To Save a Sister_. Thank you all for pushing me to have accomplished sixteen (16) chapters already!_**


	17. On the Road to Recovery

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><em>Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?<em>

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 17**

**"On the Road to Recovery"**

It took another five days before Macey began to show signs of waking up, stirring in her bed and mumbling in her sleep. We kept glancing at her every infirmary visit, hoping for those eyelids to flutter open each time. It wasn't until well after dinner that Macey's eyes opened. And they didn't flutter—they slammed. She went from lying to sitting bolt upright in the span of less than a second, her signature blue eyes scanning and darting around the room, looking for the danger that was not there.

Aunt Abby pounced on her immediately, trying to reassure the Gallagher Girl that she was safe and sound, that everything was alright. It still didn't stop the wave of questions that flooded from Macey's mouth as her mind tried to catch up with current events.

"What happened? Where am I? Am I dead? Where's Bex? Where's Lizzie? What happened? Where's Cammie? What are you doing here, Abby? When did you get here? Why—"

"Calm down, girl, before you hurt yourself," Aunt Abby said firmly, holding Macey in place by her shoulders, doing her best to stop her wounds from being aggravated. "You're fine, as are the others. You're back at Gallagher."

"Cammie! Bex! Liz!"

"They're sitting right over there," Aunt Abby said, pointing to our chairs. Bex was already halfway out of hers—having almost knocked Liz over since they had been in the middle of a particularly intense game of Battleship. (The _spy_ version; it actually shoots miniature cannonballs.)

Macey's head turned so fast I was sure I could hear something snap. Her panicked expression immediately vanished when she saw us and her entire frame almost went slack, allowing my aunt to gently ease her back into a lying position.

"I...what...when..." Macey said, unable to figure out which question to ask first. She winced and gasped in pain as her side wound flared.

"Easy, Ms. McHenry, easy," Aunt Abby said, sounding concerned. "Much has happened and those three will fill you in as soon as you can, but for now I need you to take it easy and just lie still, okay?"

Macey nodded slowly.

"Now what's the last thing you remember?"

"I...I'm not sure," she said, sounding almost afraid. She blinked a couple times. "Everything is still really foggy...I can't seem to—"

"Right, I see," Aunt Abby mused. "I'll be right back." She exited into the side room that was separate from the patients' quarters in the medical wing.

"Well it's about bloody time Sleeping Beauty woke up," Bex joked, but her voice was full of relief. She frowned and added, "Actually, you kind of look like hell. Maybe you should sleep some more."

"Bex!" Liz and I shouted.

"Shutting up."

"Good."

"I hope two princes and one dwarf is enough." I joined in on the light teasing and ruffled Liz's blonde hair playfully. I smiled to show I meant no real offence.

"Aww, come on, Cammie, lay off the short kid jokes," Liz pouted. "It's not _my_ fault, you know. I can't exactly help it."

"Try drinking milk," Bex snickered, and Liz glared up at her.

Ha! Get it? _Up_ at...oh, never mind.

"Okay, okay, I'm done," I told her and eased onto the bed. "How do you feel?"

But Macey didn't answer immediately. She had turned her head and was studying us like we were part of Dr. Fibs' collection of prototype hologram projections. The red line left by the cut across her right eyelid gave the effect one of a new uncanny awareness—it was kind of cool, in a spy way. I have a feeling Bex would agree with me. Despite the soon-to-be-scar, it obviously still stung, since that particular eye still opened less than the other. She looked me up and down, left and right for twenty-five seconds before gingerly reaching out and touching my face with her hand. It was rough with bandages.

"You're..." she stammered in disbelief, "really here."

"Yeah. We're _really _here, Macey."

"It's not just my mind playing tricks on me?" She tilted my head this way and that as if looking for the edges of a mask or the hairline of a wig.

"Nope," I confirmed, stopping her gently before I got whiplash.

"How do you feel?" Bex repeated my earlier question.

Macey seemed to relax now, sighing and turning her head on the pillow so that her face was staring upward at the ceiling, something she regretted, it seemed, since she gasped and clenched her eyes shut.

"Like I was thrown into the blades of a freaking _hel_icopter and then hit by a train," she groaned through clenched teeth with a trace of ill humor. "I'll let you know when the room stops spinning."

"I'm not surprised you feel that way." Aunt Abby's heels clicked back into the room. She had the clipboard again and was flipping through the pile of papers. "You've lost quite a lot of blood. I _am_ surprised, however, that you woke up as soon as you did, taking everything into consideration."

She leaned down and peered closely at Macey. "Are you hurting anywhere else? And be honest. I can tell if you're lying, so don't try to undermine even the slightest little thing."

Macey looked up at her through one eye with a mix of bewilderment and confusion. Aunt Abby sighed.

"We still don't have all the details regarding the poison the Circle injected you with. There are some blank spaces that we need you to fill in for us. Symptoms, anything out of the ordinary, things like that."

"So... I'm like a guinea pig?"

"That's one way of looking at it."

"Oh," Macey said simply after a moment. She flexed her right hand experimentally a couple times. The movement was slow and clumsy-looking, but that was to be expected. "Well, besides a headache the size of Russia and the obvious, I think I'm okay. Just hurts a little to breathe," she added.

"Yes, your broken rib and wound will make sure of that," Aunt Abby said sympathetically. "The best thing to do now is to get some rest."

Macey closed her eyes almost instantaneously, seeing as how they were struggling to say open. "Don't need to tell me twice," she sighed.

"Oh, and one more thing," my aunt said. She looked incredulously at the dark haired girl. "Do I _really _need to remind you not to go anywhere?"

"Believe me, I've no intention of moving... for a while," Macey said tiredly, and then lolled off into deep sleep as soon as she completed the sentence. Frankly, she still looked horrible, even with her torn clothing been discarded and intact ones for the replacements. There were large bags under her eyes, indicating her lack of undisturbed and _restful_ sleep. The sleep she'd been in the last few days was actually hazardous to her health. Her hair had lost its glossy quality and when she'd been awake her usually bright blue eyes were dazed with sleep and seemed duller and foggier than usual. Her gauze had started to turn red, indicating that fresh blood had started to pour from her wounds.

She'd been through so much it was hard to believe she was still with us.

* * *

><p>"You girls mind if I borrow Cammie for a sec?"<p>

Bex and Liz looked at each other, shrugging. After all, I was just as safe with my own aunt as with both of them. I, on the other hand, felt a small pang of reluctance. I didn't want to leave Macey's side when she needed us the most, but Bex shot me a look that told me, _"We've got this. Go."_

I smiled in silent thanks before Aunt Abby steered me to the side.

"Listen, squirt. I know you're just as confused as I am about Macey's little... hallucination the other day."

Hallucin—? _Oh_. That.

"You mean, what she was rambling on about numbers and the Circle?" I lowered my voice, even though there were no other people around. But hey, when you're in a school literally full of spies-in-training, you learn that there's always someone listening in to your conversations. How do you think rumors get spread so fast? Exactly.

Aunt Abby mirrored my quiet tone. "Yes. It's...rather cryptic. I think she might've possibly discovered something regarding the Circle of Cavan while she was being held." I nodded wordlessly. That was a distinct possibility. She had been trying to tell me something, that's for sure. And it had seemed important. One of the basic rules of information gathering and intelligence is that _everything _means something. No matter how small, even the slightest edge can make the difference of who catches who off guard. Surprise was a huge advantage to have when waltzing into unfamiliar or enemy organization territory. Especially when that enemy organization was the Circle of Cavan.

Had Macey maybe found something right under their noses?

"That, or they did something to the girl. Hard to say which. Point being, I was thinking maybe you could help spark her memory, get her to remember _what _she was rattling on about." Aunt Abby shrugged. "Could be nothing, could be something. Who knows?"

"Macey does." I answered her obviously intended rhetorical question, and Aunt Abby looked evenly at me.

"Apparently," she said briefly. She glanced at her sleeping form. "Just wait a couple days before you bring it up. She's still pretty weak, and it will be awhile before she's one hundred percent." I knew that much just by looking at my roommate. "I don't know if her mind could handle a blast to the past at this point in her recovery. It could possibly send her into shock."

That was probably the last thing we needed. "Yeah, okay, I gotcha. I was planning on asking her about it sooner or later anyway," I informed her with a half-hearted shrug. Admittedly, it had freaked me out a little. Just, the look in her eyes...

It was like she wasn't even Macey in that moment. Like she had been possessed. Though I was _almost_ hoping it was just another hallucination.

But her fever had gone down considerably and spies live on a need-to-know basis for a reason.

Both a blessing and a curse.

* * *

><p><strong>Another short chapter! Don't hate me for it.<strong>

**The next chapter is...struggling along. Stupid writer's blocks! Or in my case, an abrupt face plant into a brick wall at 95 MPH. Your choice.**

**Next chapter will be up as soon as I'm mentally capable of getting it up.**

**Again, I tried to lighten the mood, considering how dark and ominous the last chapter was. Like it? Hate it?**

**Thanks!**

**Review please!**

**Good news: I completed the classroom portion of driver's ed this morning (7/2/11)! Now I just have to finish the driving-time-with-the-instructors part. Woo hoo! :D**

**Okay, again I'm going to ask: _Should I add more detail? Yes/No/I really don't care, just update damn it! _I really need a second opinion on this.**

**Anyone ever tried one of those Rosetta Stone language programs for your computer? I see them practically every time I go into Borders or Barnes & Noble, just staring me in the face with their bright yellow boxes. I've thought about getting the Spanish one later down the road when I'm not taking it at school anymore (after graduation), just to brush up on my Spanish and to help me become more fluent in it. One of my lifetime goals (or whatever the heck you want to call it; things-to-do-before-I-die or something) is to also learn Italian, since it's such a pretty language and the culture is really interesting (NERD MODE INITIATE!). Just curious if anyone's ever tried one of them. Hey, curiosity killed the cat, but I'm not a cat, so that's not my problem.**


	18. The Meaning of Sacrifice

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>ATTENTION ALL GALLAGHER GIRLS FANS! Ally Carter's 5th Gallagher Girls novel title has been released! It is to be called <em>Out of Sight, Out of Time <em>and will be released in the U.S. on March 20, 2012!****

_Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?_

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 18**

**"The Meaning of Sacrifice"**

Three days had passed since Macey had re-awoken. In that time, she had been making steady progress. Some color had returned to her skin. The Gallagher Girl was still weak, of course. That was a result of the aftereffects of the strain the poison had places upon her body and the fact that for several days she had eaten little but a few mouthfuls of expired canned goods from an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere in the Norwegian outskirts.

But the fever, the disorientation, the morbid swelling and discoloration of her torso were all gone. She was, intellectually, her old self (minus the nose stud) and was chafing to get back to classes with the rest of us.

In this matter, Aunt Abby had objected.

"You need rest. Complete rest for at least two weeks. Otherwise, you're likely to have a relapse," she'd told Macey in a firm tone that booked no argument.

Of course, I knew my roommate might have argued in any other situation, regardless of my aunt's tone of voice. But she seemed to be deferring to Aunt Abby's judgment, at least for the time being.

"I've brought some more homework for you. You know, since you obviously don't have enough." I tossed her the small pile of papers and notes our teachers had told us to give to Macey. They didn't want her falling behind.

Pieces of paper, textbooks and notebooks were piled up on the small bedside table, threatening to tip and send the small educational tower sliding to the floor. Her pen scrawled across the page on her lap like there was a deadline and if she didn't finish in time a bomb would detonate (which could very well be plausible). There was no rush, of course. But Macey had always been bitter about being behind us in terms of grade level, and was obviously determined to catch up and make a statement to her parents along the way. I just hope she didn't push it too hard too fast too soon.

"Thanks," she said without looking up. She sounded pretty tired. I was almost wishing for her to roll her eyes and reply sarcastically. I wondered again if she had changed at all.

"So how've you been, Peacock dear?" Bex tried her luck at cracking a joke using Macey's code name, but either it wasn't funny or Macey wasn't in the mood...maybe a combination of both? She lifted _The Seventeen Hidden Elements of the Periodic Table and Their Uses _off the bed and sat down.

Macey shrugged. "Been better." It wasn't exactly the tone I'd been hoping for, just an uninterested one.

She winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs. Her injuries and the poison had caused, in Aunt Abby's words, "quite enough damage to going on with." Macey was having to take six different medicines and anti-venom pills a day, plus three shots on top of that, and though she was improving was still weak and bored with the infirmary.

I wanted her to remember what had happened in the cabin—what she'd said, what _we'd _said.

And I also wanted her to forget everything. I wanted to forget.

But you can't change what's been done. All that mattered was that we were all together again, our sister was out of harm's way and this time I _knew_ she was on the road to recovery. In a way, it had also made us stronger and closer.

"Say, you never did tell us how the Circle caught you in the first place," said Bex thoughtfully, almost to herself. Macey stopped mid-write and Bex hastily tried to regain her footing. "I mean—"

"It's okay, Bex." Macey sighed and set her work aside, sitting up straighter and wincing again. "I told Ms. Morgan earlier, anyway. I'm just surprised _she_ hasn't told _you _yet."

Wait. My own mother wouldn't tell me (her own daughter) how my own friend (her student) had been taken by an enemy terrorist organization—a.k.a. the Circle of Cavan—that was hunting said daughter—a.k.a. me; a.k.a. Cameron "Cammie The Chameleon" Morgan.

"_Yeah_, she might've left that part out." Admittedly, the topic had been haunting me for days, even since the CoveOps assignment.

"Oh. Well..." Macey tilted her head and raked back the long strands of black hair from her neck, exposing a small, fingerprint-sized bruise, at least half an inch in diameter three inches below her left ear. "Tranquilizer dart," she mumbled. "Same stuff in Napotine patches. Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

The guilt was coming back. I still couldn't believe she'd fallen to the ground unconscious behind me and I hadn't even glanced backwards once. Suddenly all my anger, frustration, anguish rushed over me in a wave and I couldn't stay silent.

"Gah! Freaking Circle!" I cried in frustration and gestured with my hands. My three friends looked at me with expressions that said, _"She's finally lost it."_ Maybe I had. I didn't know anymore.

"They're supposed to be after me, not you guys!"

Macey let her hair fall back across her neck and shoulder. She suddenly became very interested in a lose thread on the corner of the bed sheets. "Well, they were," she whispered in such a low tone I barely heard it, and if I hadn't seen her lips move slightly I might've thought I'd imagined it.

But we're Gallagher Girls. We hear everything.

"Huh?"

She shook her head. "It's not important."

"Oh, yes, it is," Bex sang, giving her the look that said she had some explaining to do, the look we'd come to love and fear (mostly fear). They had a brief stare down, but Macey sighed in defeat like she didn't have the energy to do anything else but succumb to Rebecca Baxter's inquiries (and—obviously—do schoolwork).

"Well, when we were running from those guys in the alleyway, I was right behind you. I mean, I wanted to get out of there as much as you, Cammie," she said, looking at me. "Then—I don't know if you heard it or not—there was this clicking noise, like something being loaded. For all I knew they could've been gearing up a rocket launcher or something, so I risked the look back. All I could see was a gun, I didn't know what type. Anyway, they were aiming for you, and since it was a little late to duck and cover, and I didn't have anything to block it with, I used the next best thing." She shrugged nonchalantly, like getting shot was a usual occurrence. But I guess when you're a Gallagher Girl, it's not far off the mark.

"Like I said, nothing important," she concluded. She took up her pen again and attempted to bury herself in her Encryption homework for Mr. Mosckowitz.

"Macey..." I choked up. She'd taken the hit for me, without even knowing what she was being hit with. I was almost grateful it had been a tranquilizer dart and not a bullet from a real gun. The image of her lying in a pool of her own crimson blood was gut-retching, just like I'd seen my aunt in D.C. That fateful night had been the turning point to the conspiracy that was my life. I didn't want to see anything like that happen to one of my friends or sisters or family members ever again.

Though in a way, I suspected the Circle capturing and interrogating her was almost worse. It was hard to live through and erase an experience like that from your memory, and would most likely haunt you for the rest of your life. Things like that change a person, but not necessarily for the better. I was sure nightmares would follow, since I'd even experienced a few myself. The video feed, the infiltration, the hallucinations... witnessing that was a lot on one's conscious. I could only imagine what was going through Macey's head.

How could I have let that happen?

"_Don't blame yourself, Cammie_." Macey's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked at her.

"What? Your eyebrows get all scrunched together when you're beating yourself up about something."

"I—I do not!" I turned to Bex. "Do I?"

"Well...now that she mentions it..."

I sighed and plopped down into a chair and Macey looked at me like _I_ was the one who needed treatment. "Why did you take that dart?"

"You would've done the same for me."

It was true. I guess we both knew it.

Macey grinned uneasily and scratched at her neck. "Seriously, though. You have enough to worry about. Thanks, though." As she turned back to her notes once more I realized I was looking at my friend in a whole new light. Her face was impassive.

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."

* * *

><p><strong>In case you overlooked it at the top; <strong><strong>ATTENTION ALL GALLAGHER GIRLS FANS! Ally Carter's 5th Gallagher Girls novel title has been released! It is to be called <em>Out of Sight, Out of Time <em>and will be released in the U.S. on March 20, 2012! I'm so excited, I can barely contain my excitement! ^_^ *starts jumping around the room*******

**Yay for recycled chapter titles! ^_^**

**Ah, yes. Another friendship-centered chapter. Lamer than the others, yes. But I felt explaining how Macey was taken in the first place would clear up any confusion.**

**Thanks for reading-slash-skipping-to-the-end-just-'cause-you-wanted-to-read-my-awesome-author's-note. ;)**

**Next chapter is coming along nicely, and the story pace will pick up a bit. More plot development on the rise! I'll also be attempting a POV change. You'll just have to read and find out!**

**Review! Let me know how I'm doing!**


	19. Adversity of Affliction

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls series. **_**That**_** belongs to the amazing Ally Carter. **_**I **_**however, own the storyline. It's a fan fiction for the love of—! God, these disclaimers are so pointless. Honestly, I don't even—... O_O**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>ATTENTION ALL GALLAGHER GIRLS FANS! Ally Carter's 5th Gallagher Girls novel title has been released! It is to be called Out of Sight, Out of Time and will be released in the U.S. on March 20, 2012!<strong>**

_Summary: When Macey is kidnapped by the Circle while defending Cammie, can they rescue her in time? Or better yet, will Macey survive the ordeal?_

_Author's note: Unless otherwise mentioned, this story will take place from Cammie's POV._

**Chapter 19**

**"Adversity of Affliction"**

**MACEY**

_"This way! We've got her!"_

Damn.

_Panting, out of breath, the steam coming from my mouth rose into the air and disappeared. It was no use. They were going to catch me. If only I'd gotten out of the ropes faster, run faster, farther, gotten out of the building faster, I might've made a break for it, instead of standing in the Circle base courtyard between the six buildings, trapped with nowhere left to run to. It was a futile escape plan. But I was desperate. So, so desperate. If only, if only, if only... My thoughts were a broken record._

_I wanted to die._

_And they just might do this for me._

_Before this whole nightmare began, I used to think suicide was a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and rejected the idea completely. I used to think life was too precious to just throw away at the drop of a hat whenever things got tough, but I now understood the temptation of it completely. Curiously, I wondered how many spies prior had gone down this way. Let's just say I would add a digit to that count._

_All the while I thought this, I remembered the cutting knife I'd taken from the instrument table still in hand, the same one that had made the incisions on my skin during the first torture session, now stained red with my own blood—the same blood now spotting and expanding in the piled snow and washing my face like sweat. I knew exactly what I was going to use it for. Fighting? No point. I was going to end all of this right here, right now. I grasped it tightly, placed it against my throat. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and—_

_The tool was ripped out of my fingers by a soldier. The other guards had caught up and were flooding in like a black tide, all intent on capturing the one who had caused so much havoc in a single and last escape attempt from Hell. I tried to fight back, but their hands were everywhere, punching and pulling my arms behind my back so hard my shoulder popped and a wave of fire seemed to creep up the entire right side of my body. Someone kicked me in the stomach. What little breath I had left me in a grunt and I was pushed to my knees. A fist crashed into my cheek, filling my mouth with blood as I bit the inside of it. My face was pushed into the snow that continued to fall from the sky in the howling, biting wind. Someone kicked me several times in the ribs, hard enough for at least one of them to crack. A boot collided with my already bleeding head, causing my vision to go dark for a few seconds._

_"Stop!" someone shouted over the triumphant screams of the Circle soldiers. "Don't kill her yet! I want her alive... for now."_

_This was met with roaring disapproval from the Circle members, but they stopped kicking and punching and I was hauled to my feet. My hands were retied so tight I couldn't feel them. I didn't want to. I didn't want to feel anything. Anything but the pain and helplessness. I was unable to stand, my head reeling. I was let go, and crashed back hard to the ground. A grunt escaped my lips, no matter how hard I tried to contain it. The soldiers laughed, pulling me up again, dragging me through the ice and snow toward the voice that had shouted. Once again they threw me to the ground, though they quieted down this time._

Is this the end?

_I opened my functioning eye, seeing a pair of booted legs standing in front of me. I let my gaze travel upwards, head spinning. Blood filled my mouth, and I spat it out. The white snow was now positively stained with my own crimson body fluid._

_"Ah, so _you're _the stubborn one who has caused us so much trouble," said the grinning Cassandra Goode, staring down at me._

She's Zach's mom.

_"You've only been here a day, haven't you? Surely you've enjoyed our..._hospitality_."_

_The soldiers laughed. I spat out another mouthful of blood, doing my best to put on an expressionless mask. It wasn't too difficult. My entire body was numb with cold, compared to the oven of the interrogation room I'd managed to get out of. "Cassandra. A pleasure to finally meet you," I said, trying to remember who Madam Dabney was, her face and lessons on etiquette or manners; anything from school. It seemed so far away now, like so much time had passed. I couldn't be sure of the seconds anymore, between intervals of consciousness and being drugged, I didn't even know who I was anymore. It was a miracle I still knew my own name; Macey McHenry, Macey McHenry, Macey McHenry... That was my name, wasn't it? Well, whatever it be, I hoped it looked good on a gravestone_—not that I was even sure they'd give me that proper burial. Whatever.__

_"Courteous as well as stubborn," laughed Ms. Goode. "Hard to imagine _this_ is Gillian's great great granddaughter." More laughter._

_Fuck, she knew about that?_

_"You don't deserve to even speak Gilly's name! Traitor!" I spat in Farsi (which I'm surprised I could even remember how to speak it, among other things) with as much force as I could muster. My jaw felt like it was coming off its hinges. It was embarrassing, lying like this in front of my sisterhood's enemies, tied up, half naked and bleeding._

_"Perhaps," said Ms. Goode. "But life is unfair, after all." She crouched down, grabbing my bloody hair and pulling my head up to her level; a low blow. "And spies _also _get what they deserve," she hissed. "I suspected you would try something sooner or later. Unlucky for you, there isn't anything for hundreds of miles in either direction of this place_—you'll die of the cold before we can finish you off, __slowly and painfully. _I can assure you, you _will_ give us the information we desire, one way or another. As for your pathetic friends...well, let's just say they won't be coming any time soon. It's obvious they've left you for dead. I'm surprised they even let you in in the first place!"_

_Jeering laughter._

_No. No...it's not...true...it can't be...it couldn't be...can it?_

_I prepared to spit her in the face. Ms. Goode covered my mouth with a black gloved hand, forcing me to swallow it and almost choke on the bile and blood in the process. Ms. Goode grinned at me._

_"Blood is delicious, isn't it? Especially when it is one's own..." She licked her lips, smacking them. Then she grimaced and slapped me, pulling me up further at the same time. I didn't feel the blow; they had already tried that move as soon as I had woken up tied to a chair, over and over. I had gotten used to it. It didn't sting anymore. It hurt my hope more than my body; but hope was gone at this point, a distant memory that had evaporated into the air like my breathing. It was a foreign concept._

_She steadied me with one hand and drew the other back, closing it to form a fist. I saw it coming and prepared myself, although no amount of classes or experience or time could've prepared me for anything I've gone through, and it had only been a day. _A day!

_If I were a teacher, there's one important lesson I'd dish out right from the start: Death is bliss. Beg for it. Want it. Dream of it._

_I know I was._

_Ms. Goode's fist slammed into my head. I fell for a fourth time, feeling myself slip out of consciousness. Sigh. _Finally. _I was hoping I didn't wake up. I didn't want to._

_Faintly, I heard Ms. Goode's voice. "Take her back to the interrogation room. I have _special _things in mind for her."_

* * *

><p>I came awake with a jerk and a gasp. There was that initial and—by now—all-too-familiar sense of panic as a flash of immediate questions scrolled through my head, as they had done many times over the recent events; where I was, if I was still being held by the Circle of Cavan and I had dreamed the whole fantasy that my sisterhood had gotten me out of that hellish place, if I were alive or dead. My body ached and the thoroughly unused muscles groaned in protest as I tensed and prepared to stand, to bolt up and flee, to try to escape one last time, even if it killed me!<p>

All these things buzzed through my head within the second, but I stopped short in my attempt and my heart rate immediately slowed as I registered a hand on my shoulder—what had initially caused me to awake in the first place—and followed it up the arm, to the slightly built shoulder, and finally into the face of my former secret service protector during _the Senator's _election, Abby.

She wore a rather shocked expression, most likely a result of seeing me jump and look like I was going into hysteria mode just at the small action of her putting her hand on my shoulder to wake me up.

I feel pretty stupid, getting worked up over little things like that. I was just embarrassing myself, really.

I had been sitting in one of the chairs, trying to master Liz's method of solving the Epstein Equation using only mental math, and must have nodded off. Dang it. I don't have time to waste; I should be working on catching up. I don't see any other way I'll make it to the same grade level as the others! The whole reason I had even gone on that stupid CoveOps assignment in the first place was because Mr. Solomon thought it'd be "good experience for the freshmen class prior to sophomore year to observe the art of 'noticing things.'" Believe me, it was an experience all right. I now knew how creative your enemies could be and how much of a blessing unconsciousness is.

Guess some good can come out of everything, huh...

Yet I can't really think of any. Well, besides the fact they didn't get anyone else. Me, I was disposable. Someone like Cammie or Bex or Liz, not so much. Sigh.

The hallway outside the open infirmary door was quiet, and I heard silence. (Well, you can't exactly _hear_ silence, but you catch my drift.) The lighting level told me it was close to dinner time. Ruefully, I thought about how much time I spent sleeping these days. Abby said it was only to be expected, as I was recovering and all that. I supposed she was right. But that didn't mean I had to like it.

"Have a nice nap?"

"Er, kind of," I said stupidly, but it was anything but. I cleared my throat when I heard my voice come out low and raspy from sleeping. To be honest—as much as it annoys me to no end—I felt like I couldn't get enough sleep; and not the REM based kind—those usually coincided with nightmares or memories like the one I'd just gone through—but the other total shutdown sleep that people usually wake up from feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. My bed just sounded so nice right now...and I was just...tired, so freaking tired; I was always so tired lately, and I was sick of it. I wanted to get back to classes as soon as possible, catch up on everything I'd missed in my..._absence_, but even _I _knew that would be suicide with my current "condition."

Stupid bruises. Stupid poison. Stupid Circle.

"Well, that's good. Because it's time for another examination," she informed me cheerfully, and I couldn't help but groan inwardly.

The past seven days I'd been conscious (for the most part) and confined to the antiseptic-smelling infirmary, Abby had been giving me little "check-ups" every day, a result of the Circle's whole unknown poison situation. So I'd basically become a human lab test. Fun, right? Tell me about it.

Abby reached out her arm to pull me to my feet, but I didn't accept it.

"I can walk," I insisted, but my legs didn't want to work with me here, and the next moment I collapsed sideways and grasped Abby for support. With the _wrong _hand. Ouch. My legs felt like Jell-O gelatin, like instead of my own body, I was pulling the puppet strings of a stranger's.

"If you call that _walking_, I can _fly,_" Abby snorted and put my arm around her shoulders. I sighed and submitted myself into being led across the long room, past the rows of beds, trying to keep my footing as firm as possible in order to avoid face-planting into the floor. _That_ would be a slight to see, huh?

Luckily, no one else was here. An eighth grader who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time during archery practice hadn't been in long before she was free to go. Lucky her.

At first I didn't want to show weakness in front of Cammie's Aunt, a living legend, then dismissed it because (1) it was damn hard not to, and (2) she had already seen me with my left arm dangling from a totally unflattering sling and my face covering in bruises and scratches that no amount of concealer could hide after Boston, and not so long ago on the brink of _death_. Kind of pointless at this point, no?

Unlike being with my parents or out in public, I didn't have to keep up my cover—the snobby, spoiled bitch of the Senator's daughter everybody expected me to be. A very _unfavorable_ cover, yes. But no one would expect someone like that to be a Gallagher Girl. Admittedly, I didn't expect it myself.

And sometimes, I still don't.

"Say, I've been meaning to ask you something," I said. My pride hurt almost as much as my body when she took my good hand and helped lower me into the straight-backed wooden chair. Abby sat down across from me.

"Shoot."

"Well, why are you—and don't take this the wrong way or anything—still..._here_?" She had already made the antidote for the Circle's poison. I was confused as to why she had stuck around. Surely the CIA would want her back in her niche, staking out MS-13 or ex-KGB members or something of that nature.

Abby pursed her lips. "Well, the moment my sister called me up to come down here in the first place, you became my patient. And I feel a sense of responsibility to you. I'm not going to ride off and let you undo all my good work. I need to be here to keep an eye on you."

I considered what she had said for some time; seventeen seconds, if you want to get technical about it. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Finally, I just settled on saying, "Oh."

I found I couldn't quite meet her gaze. Couldn't meet the gaze of my protector, and now savior. Couldn't meet the gaze of the woman who had taken a bullet that was clearly meant for me, and almost died because of it. Too many people had taken the blows for me—Abby, Cammie, Bex, Liz...

I just feel like such a...

Burden.

_"I'm surprised they even let you in in the first place!" _I shuddered at the memory, but thankfully, it went unnoticed by Abby. I didn't want to talk about it. Yeah, for all you counselors out there, talking about your problems doesn't always make you feel better! Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it makes you feel even worse about the situation because it's just reminding you of how crappy the situation is-slash-was! Just throwing that out there. Don't shoot the messenger.

All these thoughts were running through my head as I halfway listened to Abby's instructions; Look up, look down. Look right, look left. How many fingers? The answers to that being two, four, two again, then seven. Close your right eye. Read the first four letters in row three, and so on and so forth.

And then came the main event! Note sarcasm.

She took two fingers and poked and pried certain spots along my body, asking "Did that hurt?" To which I would reply "Yes," or "No," or the occasional, "Duh!" Especially the more obvious areas, like the burn on my right thigh—which was not a pretty picture to look at—or my ribs, just to name a few.

The last part came round, something a normal doctor—not a CIA-trained one—might do to a concussion victim. Abby clicked on small light pen (luckily she picked the right one this time, and not her metal-incinerating laser that looks pretty similar—now _that_, was a close call) and shined it into my face.

"Follow the light with your eyes," she instructed, and I did as I was told.

When I'd jokingly asked her where she had gotten her doctoral degree, Abby had laughed. "You pick up a few things when your cover is a surgeon in Tanzania and you're forced to operate on someone using only sewing scissors and a spork." I didn't pry after that. Plus, I didn't think I had a high enough clearance level.

The glare of the light darted around my vision diagonally and sideways for a while before—perhaps wanting to be spontaneous or something, beats me—it began to sweep in a half-circle, like a U. Back and forth, back and forth. Swing left, swing right. Swing left, swing right.

Swing.

Swing..

Swing...

In the next second Abby and the infirmary walls vanished. And all I saw was_ a single light. Dangling from the ceiling, casting it's illumination on the concrete walls._

_The light of my prison._

And then the intensity grew to an impossibly bright level. It was almost like going blind by looking at the freaking _sun_. Everything was white. So, so white. I shut my eyes and buried my palms against them just as a stunning, blinding pain exploded somewhere inside me.

Bursts of red and orange splattered onto my eyelids, which I was screwing shut; anything to ease the pain resonating from my very brain. Then it was if someone had plugged the North American Stock Exchange into my retinas. Numbers flashed by so fast it made me feel sick. I could hardly make any of them out; and with each one came the feeling of a mallet being slammed into my cranium: _some of them written in foreign languages; one-zero-eight-five-six-five-eight-nine-seven-nine-two-zero-one-one-six-three-four-three-zero-two-one-four-seven-three-zero-nine-nine-five-seven-zero-three-eight-zero-seven-zero-five-six-two-seven-one-zero-five-seven-zero-five-seven-one-two—_

Numbers...

Numbers..

NUMBERS!

A high keening sound rose to an intolerable pitch that reverberated through my body. I was grabbing my head in a desperate attempt to block it out, knowing my efforts were futile because it wasn't coming from outside. Something thin and warm trickled through the grooves in my fingers. It felt like my ears were bleeding.

I felt hands on my forearms, shaking me, but nothing mattered except that I wanted to cry out, but couldn't find my breath. I couldn't breathe. I begged for unconsciousness to come a-knocking, just to make it stop!

The Fates were being generous today, and my wish was granted.

And then I felt weightless. My body was positively floating in agony until all at once, until I felt a freezing chill come through me, and just as suddenly, I felt and heard absolutely nothing at all.

The numbers stopped. All I saw was solid white; the brightness seeping through every crack and crevice of my skull, wrapping itself around my brain and squeezing as hard as it possibly could. A flash of white blocked my vision so that the solid sheet was all that I could see; the off switch flipped for all my other senses.

I vaguely felt myself fall to my knees as the white began fading into duller shades of gray until finally; all that I saw was black.

* * *

><p><strong>ABBY<strong>

"Damn it all!" I think that the Portuguese curse words escaped my mouth even before she hit the floor; that's how quickly my reflexes ignited, sparking me to dart up in her general direction the second I watched her eyes roll back to their whites, the second she dropped down onto the floor. I caught her before her head could hit the floor and worsen the damage or reignite a second concussion. Goodness knows _Cammie_ has had enough of 'em.

My initial thought when the Senator's daughter had clamped her eyes shut and gripped her head, panting shallowly and gritting her teeth was that it was another stabbing headache usually coinciding with poor glare recovery, a side effects of those with past concussions, but when I saw the small line of red trickle from the sides of her head by the ears...

This was on a whole 'nother level.

A relapse? Possibly. There were still so many blanks regarding the Circle's poison it was still iffy as to what had caused the girl to suddenly lose consciousness.

And it was extremely worrying.

Perhaps one of the anti-venoms had backfired, or Fibs had missed something vital in the records. Or maybe the poison fluctuated showing symptoms and hadn't actually left her system at all? If the fractured rib had splintered and caused internal bleeding? Surely McHenry would've noticed the fact. I'm no _professional_ doctor per se, but I knew enough to know this wasn't normal by any means.

Worst case scenario, the antidote had been the wrong one. I'd never live that down.

Macey had landed on her side and I gently rolled her over onto her back. I brushed the hair back from her face. Her eyes were shut and her face was deathly pale. Blood had streamed from her ears and nose. She didn't seem to be breathing. Macey McHenry dead? It couldn't be. Not so suddenly.

Then the still figure gave a shuddering sigh and began to breathe again. A small sense of relief came through me. Okay, so the worse hasn't occurred.

_Yet._

But it was clear she wasn't out of the woods.

I groped for her wrist. A pulse was _definitely_ there; and it was beating a lot faster than it should have been. Her skin had a twinge of cold. It became clear that whatever the problem was, it needed attention immediately. But it was kind of hard to do that kneeling on the _floor_.

I didn't try to wake her up. Because more than likely, it wouldn't have an effect; no point in wasting time. I picked up Macey, careful not to slam her around as I slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back with one of the nurses' assistance.

And of course, my niece just so happened to walk in _right at this moment._ Sure, I love the squirt, I'd put my money on her even to surpass Rachel one day (though I'd best not voice that out loud), but in situations like these...well, let's just say she has enough to worry about, with the Circle of Cavan situation and everything. Man, how I'd love to pull off some illegal moves on those guys!

Though if it were me and I'd just walked in on my aunt carrying the limp form of my unconscious friend, I might have been a little worried, too.

"What the hell happened?" Bex demanded, running up. The concern was obvious on their faces.

"She's not..." Liz hesitated.

I shook my head and began to walk away, toward the emergency quarters. "She's alive. But she's unconscious."

"But how?"

"Why?"

"When?"

"I don't know," I stated. "Look, when I have the details, I'll fill you in. It's not that I _won't_ tell you..." I sighed. "It's that I _can't_."

As I turned away from the confused three, Macey gave vent to another shuddering breath that seemed to shake her entire body. Then her breathing settled a little. But she was breathing raggedly, and taking only shallow breaths. That was way, I realized, she was being racked by those great shuddering sobs every so often. She needed the extra oxygen in her lungs.

I quickened and lengthened my steps; the nurse trailing next to me had to jump slightly every so often to keep up.

What the hell was happening?

* * *

><p><strong>Long. Effing. Chapter. I just couldn't find a good stopping point. For those of you who like long chapters: You're freaking welcome! :)<strong>

**Sorry if I over-explained some things. I got a little carried away.**

**PLOT THICKENING COMMENCE!**

**My first change of POV so far. Figured I'd try it on for size. **May have some others in store in the future. But I won't overuse it as to change POV every other paragraph to cover the same event from different characters' eyes.****

****Also aiming for some more ominous chapter titles, since most have been pretty self-explanatory, huh? Let's just say I've dug up and visited my old thesaurus.****

**Love it? Hate it? **

**Review!**

**Also, Macey's flashback-slash-dream (or flashback _inside _a dream, whichever term you prefer) at the very beginning was before the whole knife-with-poison-on-it-being-stabbed-into-Macey part. Just wanted to clear that up, in case you didn't already take the hint.**

**Notice how my author's notes have gotten longer and longer as more chapters are submitted? I just now noticed that! xD**


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